Valley of Colourless Secrets – a poem

The opiate blossoms have awoken,

Petals unfurling to show litten

And colourless innards, awake

To drink great light, their thirst slake.


Wildly yellow the grand moon shines

Down upon the valley of soft rhymes,

Better known for death flowers, for

Growing bright pods cast in forever.


Shadowy winds pick up recollections

And draw them across the valley, seasons

Pointless to observe for the valley

Obeys no physical law, no mortal tally.


Few of those sweet surcease promise scents

Escape the valley, bare precedent trends

That draw outsiders in, a bitter honeytrap

For unsuspecting travellers, sometimes stopped.


Fickle motives become realised in lieu

Of one’s previous destination true,

That important place now forgot,

A fading memory without sad loss.


Swift moves the new visitor, innocent,

Knowing no warnings of the valley’s taint

Lying about all its secrets, fire

Blooming in those flower heads dire.


The trap is set, the moon is risen high,

Golden yellow, bloated, time nigh

For lures to be reeled in, tugged upon

And the enfolding of sticky, resinous sin.


Our traveller is thus lost, beholden by

Secret fields of deathly wax, mortal high

That seems sweet first, bitter only much later,

The truth of the valley, the fate of our traveller…



All artwork on this site is done by myself unless otherwise stated.


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