Dr. Hurley’s Digest, Vol. II, Issue 29

Hello dear Snake-Oilers. This week saw some great photography and poetry from previous contributors, plus a new fiction writer bringing a great short story to Snake-Oil Cure.

See what you missed below, and stay tuned for more goodies this week.

Monday – Poetry

Wednesday – Photography

Friday – Fiction

More, including some longer fiction, coming up in the next couple of weeks! The Doctor will return tomorrow.

Poetry

Shadow of the room, languid, surreal, moonless nights, drifted.

After midnight, no sign of recognition, moved through plangent lights,
ceremony of surprise, photographs in stopped time.

Behind my eyes, perfect stillness, lost in the mist of poetry, made a second
sky.

They say write poetry, I carry, in my grotesque melodrama, my luminous
sensitivity, the stored bitterness of my childhood, the beauty of indrawn
tides.

I forgive their transgressions against me, idly time passes, listening to the
wind, counting the clouds.

Flashback, trips of the 60s, another program of light, in the mist of another
place, another life, another program, another date.

Some journeys take years, go where you least expect to go, poetry.

* * * * *

Dennis Thomas is an Australian poet who resides in Canberra.  His work has appeared in The Lost Words, and The South Townsville micro poetry journal.  He is currently preparing his fourth collection.

His contributions to Dr. Hurley’s Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

Her Eyes, the Gift from Her Eyes

A tumble of echoes, a rainbow crashes, shatters.

A large gaping window, a high balcony, a hazy mist.

Discern, collide, choose a different path—imagination craves observation,
seclusion.

Quietness, empty mind connects, invisible dimension, invisible world,
thought, dream, creation.

Nothingness, thought, vision, my last day.

Broken waves open up to me, moon blades, spreading my friend’s ashes.

Loss. The outer edge.

Earth, frozen wood, river flowered, there is only one space, yourself.

Beyond a clear line of sight, a woman stood, a dozen heartbeats shadowed
the light.
Her eyes, the gift from her eyes.

It would be lovely if love would last forever—summer days, on, on, drowsed
under blue skies.

The Beauty of You

The moon wound, smell the sea, nostalgic memories, my first poem.

Mellow after light, the wrinkled blue purple bay, my inner prophet,
spreading into lines of poetry, writes through me, a poetry of my soul.

Winds of heaven blow across the heavens, waves clasp, I lay here, just
dreaming of being.

Sea, browning grey, white laced, under limitless sky, as time plays, life
moves on.

Face of the clouds, faces of the past, who I really am, you give, may together
we break through iron gate of life.

Seasons I have seen, hold fresh, blue, yet green, the beauty of you, so close,
so near, makes me think, as seasons do not fade.

* * * * *

Dennis Thomas is an Australian poet who resides in Canberra.  His work has appeared in The Lost Words, and The South Townsville micro poetry journal.  He is currently preparing his fourth collection. His contributions to Dr. Hurley’s Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

The World inside My Embrace

Time melts into the city, summer breeze whispers, the world inside my
embrace, silence.

Pull me down, empty, grow again, resurrect.

Mysteriously, in flickering whiteness, someone leaves, moves away into the
sea of spray.

Voices talk gently, sat at the train station, years pass, trains come go,
cloudless sky, alone, watching trains, on the tracks of time, seeing the last
line.

Across the sky, so many lives, villages, rivers, woods, days.

* * * * *

Dennis Thomas is an Australian poet who resides in Canberra.  His work has appeared in The Lost Words, and The South Townsville micro poetry journal.  He is currently preparing his fourth collection. His contributions to Dr. Hurley’s Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.

Hindi Death

Old wind, dark waters, sky dreams of ancient voices, sides of a shadow
leaping out, spirits watching.

Rode across the sky, folding shadows.

Pitted across the setting sun, Hindi death, joyous celebration, children
hugged, her body smeared with cold ash, long repetitive songs.

Sun disappeared, lost into another life, wind, space.

* * * * *

Dennis Thomas is an Australian poet who resides in Canberra.  His work has appeared in The Lost Words, and The South Townsville micro poetry journal.  He is currently preparing his fourth collection. His contributions to Dr. Hurley’s Snake-Oil Cure can be found here.