Glitches in the Stream by Elspeth Reynolds Taylor

The River of Sensations

Submerging my hand in the translucent shallows,
Cold in ice pricks makes pathways to my nerves.
The torrent of energy rising and arching round my wrist
But still I look past its reflected starlight.

Mud and silt lie still on the dark bed,
Stones split the fragile fabric of the current.
A chorus of gurgling over stones and a swish of unhindered movement,
Beating in with the march of the ordered march of a thousand dew sized footsteps
Marching along its course between the sloping banks gaze.

River Gem

Light fills the hidden gem,
Captured and held within colours grasp.
Transformed into the soft touch of lilac glow,
Set free to dye the boring waters a blossom of interest.

Once whole and brimming with liquid purpose
Now purpose served, submerged in liquid swirls.
Once shattered lashing with bite and sting,
Yet now smoothed, a fine prize for those who brave the cold.

Colours of the Craft

The lead works
I
Boring grey and low pay labour,
Poison seeping into weary workers
Who stay unaware of the danger they face
So continue with their deadly craft.

Time slips by with the aching moments,
Twitching muscles losing pace and accuracy,
Careless and half-finished jobs lay on the table.
Grown men stunned by the corrosive smells.

Family waiting, the shift dragging on,
Seconds barely ticking and slowing when heard.
Enunciating every frozen moment unbearably
But still tasks flow unhindered.

Then time is served and the day is lost,
Money is handed over in its pitiful few.
Stumbling tired to fall over the threshold,
The family anxious but waiting is ignored.
Poison takes its toll and illness shows its features.

The colours
II
Paint dances across the canvas,
With bursts of light narrating the story,
Flocks of people marvelling at the creation,
A blur of exotic colours catching the senses.

A dress cradled in brown paper,
The light of excitement beaming in a child’s eye,
How elegant she looks in her purple and gold.
A masterpiece of a gift.

a house in the neighbourhood,
a family home filled with laughter
the colour of warmth and dancing light
Smiling out at the passer-by.

Flowers budding in the garden,
A beautiful vase waiting to be adorned
Patterned in lights and colours brighter still.
A wonderful ornament and prized position.
These are the colours of the craft.

Caged to be a Cage

Brothers and sisters caged to be a cage for the flowing entity that brought me here,
Before this I was stolen from my perch beneath a giant’s fan of leaves.
Storms set fast around my sheltered abode in a pure white light,
I was soaring through a blur of fear as I plummeted into drowning blue.

I travelled in this limbo along the unseen road for the longest time,
I emerged where I lay now, when the banks began a retreat from this surge of energy.
Then the moving box screeched to halt on the lip of the banks beside me,
Revealing cages of my sister stone and shards brothers and boulders.

Piled one atop another by the unseen monsters,
I fade in time, with each piece of me I lose the memory distances,
The detached image played in a loop as I see them,
Brother, sister, still, unmoving,
Caged to be cage.