Falling
From behind, the heels rushing away
The camera tilts
A shot of the sky
Twisting sea cartwheels in
The falling man
Strand
Wet hair emerges from the surf
A wave on rocks
Sand leeching with withdrawing water
A flailing hand
Litter blowing on the beach
Trouble
A stern, pinched face
The canteen gush of steam beyond
My pink-pale childish cheek
Small fingers clutching each other
A long thin pair of hands clapping before the child’s nose.
(This poem was from an exercise taught as part of the 'Red Sky Sessions' run by Apples and Snakes. They are currently taking applications for their newest skills development programme, here)
About the Creator
Conor Darrall
Short stories, poetry and some burble . Irish traditional musician, medieval swords guy, draoi and strange egg. Bipolar/ADD/CPTSD/Brain Damage. Currently querying my novel 'The Forgotten 47' - @conordarrall / www.conordarrall.com



Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.