Tuesday, 27 June 2017

NEW BOOK ALERT

Got the cover sorted for my brand new book
To be revealed very soon

I can announce that the book will be called

Empireland

and it is an historical fantasy 
set away from Heliodor
but perhaps not too far away

Stay tuned because it's all
coming soon!!


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Thursday, 15 June 2017

Poem - Aura



 Rainbows at Night - The Poems of Clive Culverhouse


Aura

A sudden gradualness
You know the sun will rise
Waiting through the darkness
Then it does
But bright, a flash of light
Lowly starved brain
Then a dip into Fantasia
Of fractured rainbows
And moving zig-zags
Seeing beyond all
Into atoms and entering
Deep dimensions
Leaving, touring, viewing
Secrets and other worlds
Before the deep, deep
Bang of the dullest drum
Drunk without the fun


© 2017 Clive Culverhouse. All rights reserved. This poem is the property of Clive Culverhouse and may not be used without permission.







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Wednesday, 7 June 2017

Poem - I Fear I Might Be Immortal



Rainbows at Night - The Poems of Clive Culverhouse


I Fear I Might Be Immortal

I fear I might be immortal
I’m occurring
at every turn, I didn’t realise
death was really
so short term, but
Deja-vu
allows me to peak
right through to the
birds who repeat
their daily song
the serpent slithering around
a journey of varying lengths
covering similar ground but as
the scryer has already seen
so the lives inform
my dreams


© 2017 Clive Culverhouse. All rights reserved. This poem is the property of Clive Culverhouse and may not be used without permission.







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Thursday, 1 June 2017

The Pods


The Pods   
by Clive Culverhouse



Rotors slowed and sound waned
as the helicopter sided, meeting the ground
in a heart stopping flame
A distant plane plunged to a wing tipping contact
the fireball cruel and final
My window pane seemed like a screen
showing horrors as I stood with frozen eyes
for it wasn’t the carnage that held me
It was the pods that had descended from high
Metallic dull and balloon-like as they hung still
equally spaced from close by to the horizon
and there they waited, menacingly
I knew I should have shouted
“Come away from the window!”
but my children’s screens held them fast
as mine was holding me
where seconds spread into eternity
In coordinated unison something opened
and the pods began to empty
Dots, many dots, gushing out joining those that
emptied out of other pods to a swarm of acrobatic
flights of swirls, folds and ripples
Breath-taking beauty above death fires below
The skies darkened with these pod entities
A fog engulfing all, like a plague
of otherworldly wonder, but still I stood
motionless at my windowed screen
I do not know how but in my transfixed state
I realised the dots were already in with us
We were now no longer alone
But they were not dots
A soft flow of disturbed air blew with a hum
they were tiny bird-like creatures, mildly coloured
and they were filling every space as the pecking
began with sharp pricking almost tickling
but these creatures seemed too eager
to make their contact as their annoying intrusion
was short lived and the fizzing swell lost interest
and moved on as one, and it was all done
The pods hung above as the swarm swirled on
Every house, person and animal was subjected
to a frenzy of mysterious pecking
that left only bemusement as my body looked
unharmed, but could it really be that pods
would come to us from space and unleash
such strangeness upon our planet
Have we just been attacked
Have we been greeted, or
have we just been monitored and sampled
primed and readied for further agenda
The swarm was now distant as I watched
from my window, puzzled that an alien attack
had just tickled, seemingly to have failed
Did planet earth defeat these beings
Did we win…
I should have noticed that my children
were no longer watching with me
I should have seen them laying by my feet
as my eyes drew heavy and a headache was surging
But I too dropped
But just before I did, through my screened pane
I thought I caught sight of someone
picking themself up
before everything went black






© 2017 Clive Culverhouse. All rights reserved. This poem is the property of Clive Culverhouse and may not be used without permission.


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