Stephen Philip Druce is an eclectic poet
from Shrewsbury in the UK. He is published
in the UK, the USA, Hungary, South Africa,
Ireland, Canada and India. He has also
written for London Theater plays and BBC
Radio 4 Extra. Contact Stephen on Instagram
@StephenPhilipDruce
THE PIANIST'S FINAL FLOURISH
Rustling herds of marching embers
ooze a masquerade of tickled trenches
in seething dominion,
torched waterfalls - nourished by zephyr
mastery, lurch languid in a godly
zeal of paradigm vanity,
sandcastle-shaped serpents
trigger spew a searing horizon
of tangled theaters in
screeching flower cages,
scalded in sodden shadow,
the swooping goose machine
scatters its crinkled chimes
in a sensory mist of
ragged tigers and skating
vulture dust,
the canvas hermit -
nurtured in chalice,
furtive in fountain,
splashed by ruby,
as the wilted maestro sits
in a solitude ceremony
of feathered ferocity -
the pianist's final flourish.
BIRDMAN OF THE HIGHWAY
Birdman of the highway,
flying through the night,
where days dissolve
and sunsets fold -
where ocean stars ignite,
through roads that snake
in a club striptease,
over champagne lakes
in a cocaine breeze,
as fast lanes flock
to casino hills,
the mountains rock
the backseat thrills,
birdman of the highway,
flying through the night,
where days dissolve
and sunsets fold -
where ocean stars ignite,
through cocktail shakes
in tequila seas,
as the city bakes
the street girls please,
over lit-up clocks
and fairground shrills,
the prison blocks
are popping pills,
birdman of the highway,
flying through the night,
where days dissolve
and sunsets fold -
where ocean stars ignite,
the cat pimps chew on fat cigars,
the foxes in the ghetto croon,
the carpets laid for movie stars
are chewed up in the rat monsoon,
the hurricane
it stirred so well,
the whisky rain
and the ice hotel,
birdman of the highway,
flying through the night,
where days dissolve
and sunsets fold -
where ocean stars ignite,
the night owl serenades the scars,
of moonlit lizards in desert dunes,
the rabbits shoot at speeding cars,
the bats rap to the nightclub tunes,
the riot flames
they cry farewell,
the mob that shamed
have smoked in hell,
birdman of the highway,
flying through the night,
where days dissolve
and sunsets fold -
where ocean stars ignite.
