The detective…a found poem

As he descends the escalator he 

notes, the behaviour

 of the people in front,

The man with the greasy hair

shifting from one foot to the other, 

looking around, shoulders hunched,

Directly behind him, the man in the sharp suit

is typing fast,

onto his Smartphone. 

Both men, and women are running 

down the left side of the stairway, 

past all the static passengers,

he tenses alert for any sign

 of threat,

As he leaves the escalator

he checks the entrances

to both the platforms, automatically,

He moves through onto the platform ,and

is surprised.

By the small number of people

spread along its length,

He savours the space, no need to fight

through a press of bodies 

to get on the train,

He checks the arrivals board,

his train will be in three minutes,

So he moves to the centre 

of the platform, and stands with 

his back to the wall checking

left and right,

To observe the people around him.
Always on duty never able to relax,

Always the detective.

I was challenged to take some lines from a novel and without changing the words to change the firmat to become a found poem. This is my first found poem. 

Love is like an insect

An entomologist of feelings,

Love -lust so appealing,

Like a moth to a flame, time

and again, I am attracted

by your light,

The sound of your voice,

 Arouses me, like a cicada

calling, to a mate,

Drunk on your nectar, like a bee

I am collector,

Love-lust so appealing,

Love lust unreeling,

Will love die

like a tragic mayfly, in the blink of 

an eye,

Or will I be bound like

ants on the ground, to servitude,

Will I hover in the sky like a

sparking firefly,

Forever at the gate trying to attract my soul mate.

Like an empty can

Heartless, heartless like an empty can,

The ripples from your empty vessel

reverberating, through the cosmos,

Destroying all those,you snare

in your web,

Doomed to love only yourself,

All your tomorrows set, to your

narcissistic pleasure,

Heartless, heartless like an empty can,

Feeder on the souls of the innocent,

I swim against the tide of negative emotions,

Ripples of freedom will be my

Tomorrow.
Written to the prompts #heartless #ripple #tomorrow

Revised You

I posted the poem you yesterday I have reviewed it and changed and hopefully improved it what do you think? 
You.
There is no mistaking you,

Standing poised by the jeep, 

Surrounded by  fractured light, like

a being from another  dimension,

Your head thrown back, emitting sounds

that I cannot hear,

 I am imagining, the infectious

booming laughter, rolling from your lips. 

 

Images blown like paper, stirring, in the draught

from an open window,

Random thoughts of you, connected like patchwork.
As I move closer, you shift, showing

your chiselled profile, from under 

the blue baseball cap,

The dark blue fatigues emphasise the sculpted

compactness of your form,

 I walk quietly towards you, but some sixth sense,

Causes you to turn, and I am caught 

mesmerised, by the brightness of your gaze,

Those glorious grey eyes flecked with gold, dominant 

your tanned face, drawing me into your world, your soul ,

My heart hammers.

 Images blown like paper, stirring, in the draught

 from an open window,

Random thoughts of you, connected like patchwork.
I see the colours, the colours of the African day,

Reflected in the honey toned 

clarity of your skin, 

The vividness of your eyes, the glinting silver 

stubble  on your chin, 

and the crow’s feet wrinkles, 

mirroring the drought parched land.

Etched in memory.
Images blown like paper, stirring, in the draught

 from an open window,

Random thoughts of you, connected like patchwork.
 

Firm lips, corners kinked, into the hint of a smile,

 Speak words in accent less English,

Always a surprise given your antecedents, 

There is a hint of croaky gravelliness,  in your diction,

 Some harshness evident,  like the croak of an eagle,

You turn back, then lope off with

 long strides, lithe as a big cat,

Your controlled movements, denote a man of action,

Sexuality oozes, even from your retreating form,

How can you be defined?

My Patchwork picture has empty squares.

 Images blown like paper, stirring, in the draught

 from an open window,

Random thoughts of you, connected like patchwork.
There is a cold breeze raising goosebumps on my skin,

As you disappear into the heat haze,

Hopes, dreams, and beliefs unshared,

Images blown like paper, Stirring, in the draught 

from an open window,

Random thoughts of you, connected like patchwork,

Whirling, swirling always mine.

 

You

There is no mistaking you,

Standing poised by the jeep, surrounded by the fractured light

as the sun bounces off metal and glass,

Your head thrown back, emitting sounds, that I cannot hear,

Although I am imagining, the infectious

booming laughter, rolling from your lips. 

Images blown like paper,

Stirring, in the draft from an open window,

Random thoughts of you, connected like patchwork,

As I move closer, you shift, showing

a chistled profile, under the blue baseball cap,

The sculpted solidity of your form in the dark blue fatigues.Alluring.
I walk quietly towards you, but some sixth sense,

Causes you to turn,and I am caught 

mesmerised. By the brightness if your gaze,

Those glorious grey eyes flecked  with gold

Dominant your tanned face. Drawing me into your world,

My heart hammers.
I see the colours, the colours of the African day,

Reflected in the honey toned clarity of your skin, 

The vividness of your eyes, the silver of the 

stubble glinting on your chin, the crows feet

wrinkles, mirroring the drought parched  land.

Etched in memory.
Firm lips. Corners kinked into the hint of a smile,

Open, to speak words in accentless English,

Always a suprise given your antecedents, 

There is a hint of croaky gravelliness in your diction,

 Some harshness evident, registering impatience,

Actions and words, memories and interpretation.
You turn back, then lope  off with long strides, lithe as a big cat ,

Your controlled movements, denote a man of action,

Sexuality oozes, even from your retreating form,

How can you be defined?

Your charm, friends, words, the books you read, the inner man?

My Patchwork picture has empty squares.
There is a cold breeze raising goosebumps on my skin,

As you disappear into the heat haze,

Hopes, dreams,  and beliefs unshared,

Images blown like paper.

Stirring, in the draught from an open window

Whirling, swirling always mine.

First Lipogram

Yesterday was the first time I had ever heard of a lipogram when I was challenged to write one using only one vowel in all the words.

I will have to practice wayyy to go!

But here is the furst attempt

Rocky Moon

Downtown noon
Cotton Gown 

Common brown
Blooms too soon

Cloth cocoon
Body Donor

Bloody horror
Lobby now

Sorry wow.

Vortex

Vortex dark and swirling,

Momentarily still,

Grey shades of darkness, lozenge 

shaped,ready to kill,

Fae currents from 

a far off world,

Coalesce in this spot,

Danger dark despicable,

Could this be our lot?

Brightness, radiating beams 

of light, our saviour or 

our plight?

Blue and golden

 rainbows, holds the darkness

 tight,

 Just holding dangers balance

keeping up the fight,

The aura made of goodness

is filtered from our world,

Banishing the evil to just a little swirl.

Idle Dreams

My idle dreams can help me merge my various forms 

and recreate visions of the future,

 or just allow me a space to be the me I would like to be, 

The child , the femme fatal, the carer,the cook,all part of me,

My fantasies can take me away from the angst of a dreadful day,

Or maybe I can just escape in a little space in time

merge all my selves, have time sublime,

Act a scene with Cary Grant, private jet to the South of France,

Find treasure in a search, ride my magic carpet, dance and prance

Who knows what my idle dreams will be

Daydreaming happy dreams can’t you see?

Escape from reality

Daydreams, night schemes,

Escape from reality, a little ego and vanity,

Imagining a life together,

always smiling whatever the weather,

Rosey glow , when really I know,

Pipe dreams

crazy schemes,

Charisma abounds

excitement confounds,

Reality check

from a distance, you are perfect,

Reading between the lines

 you commit a few crimes,

Happily ever after,

couldn’t be dafter,

You pride yourself in telling the truth

but lie by ommission, I have seen the proof,

You have so much charisma

your chat lovingly familiar,

One of many friends you hold

will time coalesce, when feelings go cold,

Day dreams, happiness schemes

Escape from reality, a little ego and vanity,

Hold in perspective, no sadness retrospective,

The heart is drawn 

but the head inform

Pipe dreams, crazy schemes

Grounded in reality, fantasy and vanity.

.