Christopher Tower Poetry Cometition 2017

The theme for this competition was secrets. 

I sent them a poem I already had drafted that I felt fit the theme, but in retrospect that was a mistake and was likely why they never got back to me :/ . For more information about the poem Dry Bones Can Harm No One itself, check out its page on the poetry blog!

Dry Bones Can Harm No One

 

Fallen roots of mountains secret, damned

in coils, walkways heated, sallow sand,

a bleared, mazed, forfeited valley waits.

Streams of blanked dilapidated slates,

coffin headers spaced two foot between,

seven out front lie, to all unseen,

tasselled with ivy that seizes them.

 

These slates; they have daisies in their hair.

Chloris’s kisses crawl up, ensnare

with moss: Nature strains back its gifts, vows.

We don’t need it, no no; and not now.

 

Strain they from Selvan’s clutch, reaching up

to clouded, hailing sky only but

one arm dwarfs poppies: Doors long rotted;

stained glass bleeding grass; split, besotted

ice, frozen azure shades since muddied.

The pews: Ash claims them; prayers sullied.

 

Praying verdance; it cradles this place.

Past years needed it: we used embrace

our fears: darks, unknowns. We chose allow

this; we ran from them! We don’t now, now.

 

They ran from here. Everyone did. Scars

Slither down damp stone like prison bars.

The altar to none: since pilfered, gold,

gilded silver released in the hold

of lost apostates –

 

Lost? We gave up trying to be found!

We gave up our fear, we walked unbound

in our world. Disbelief left torn wraiths.

All that was left: was it give up faith?

 

Faith is all I remain. I naught care

but send wishes high. The hollow stares

up, roof rotted to let in dim light.

All I have left: this secret, this plight.

 

Stare you up to waning skies undone?

You’re right, I suppose, but dry bones can…

                                Dry bones should harm no one.