4 Poems by Chris Page

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4 Poems by Chris Page

Flames in the Kitchen 

When I was young as a dying mayfly,
with no idea of what it was to die,
my kitchen never smelled of fresh baked bread.
It smelled of a corpse that wasn't yet dead. 

When I ran in and out of rooms, in games,
that demon was always at the table.
Its sallow skin cold against the sun's flames
and its drinking hand growing unstable. 

A cloud of smoke obscured that face from me
but I could always see the sunken eyes
glaring at the gate of Hell before it
hugging a bottle of sweet whisky lies. 

There are no demons in my house these days
but the chair still smells of whisky and smoke. 

And Leaves are Spun of Silver 

In Nemea the lions wear gold fur
to guard against the wounds of men and beasts.
Man is not as kind to beasts as nature
and sees greater glory in hard fought feasts. 

The flames dancing on the back of death's claws
under the last lights of a setting sun
as Nemea paces with soft heeled paws
would make blood pound as life begins to run. 

Nemea no longer paces wild worlds.
Nemea sharpens her claws on no rock.
Nemea chases no beasts to sunset.
Nemea sits in the shade of a clock. 

Golden fur. Pound a hair. Million a pelt.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tock. 

Rusted Chains on a Seaborne Rock 

I am flame and rage and hatred for you.
I shall engulf you, sear you to your bones
and there will be nothing that you can do.
Yet still you approach with flowers and love. 

I am water and illusion and fear of you.
I shall slip through your fingers if I can
or freeze to ice until I soak you through.
Yet still you approach to win my heart. 

I am claw and tooth and savagery now.
I shall tear you limb from limb with pure glee
and rip into shreds your great olive bough.
Why do you still come saying you love me? 

I have changed so much since you first saw me.
I guess there's more than a rose in a name. 

All the Things You're Not 

You are not more beautiful than all the stars in the sky
but you're more fun to chat to than those suns on high.
You are not more soothing than the ocean's mighty swell
but you are there when a long day has just been hell.
I would not lay my life down at your sanctified feet
but I would put it into your hands in a heartbeat.
I do not know that I will love you until I die
but for now I like you enough that I want to try. 

This is article about :4 Poems by Chris Page

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