Four poems // Mark G. Pennington

Birdman of antacids

I eat like a bird,

I peck a little while

Then I fly away;

I come back

And I peck a little more.

Vitriolic mordant machine

Untrained voices began relaying the fine

Interstices of fame whilst the sounds

Of an accordion could be heard

Playing in the passage overhead:

The artisan sounds of felony.

Roll with the punches

Life is not about

Obtaining a different

Set of dice to roll,

But rather,

How inexplicable

The choices are

On the numbers

That face upwards.

A Clyde for Bonnie

Gravid body,

The milk giver;

Caryatid with a harp.

Shadow play

With heavy uterus,

The skin trade.

A taut, tambourine hide,

Play on a drum,

Making love to an expectant:

Like sweet vandalism.

//

Mark G. Pennington was born 1985 and lives and writes in UK. He has currently two poems from a poetry manuscript accepted in Poetry Pacific. Previous to this, publications are under the name J. Rose in magazines such as Dear Sir, The Journal UK, Broken Wine, Clockwise Cat and others. Rose has also published a first book in 2012, titled Lithium Clockwork.

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