It happened again.
The quest for reason
Futility
Really,
The chains were too tight now
Rust
Foster-child
Damn!
Constant sitting
No grass
When, if ever
Speed. Oh the speed.
Linen,
Muddled memories
Why not?
No more.
Taste it
Addiction is key
Now the door opens.
White peacocks
Poets
Wicked ice
Cheer comes
The scythe of pleasure
Cherries
A conversation
Pure passion
Paper against paper
Sweet inked kiss
The bus arrives
Love
One stop only
Melancholia
The stone never turns
Let it go
Throw
Rampant dreams
Wood angles
Music sounds
The scissor listens
The rose cries
Caffeine
Restoration
Bloom
Ramifications underway
The apple is presented
Fascist mud
The cards fall
June’s glory
Snow
Minuscule black
Bones
Selling trees
Mystery lives
Mercenary
The fig tree
Repose comes.
Pardon reprieve
The mind still recalls,
Speed. Oh the speed.
Wow. I think I like this one the best. This poem sounds SO GOOD when read in a breath... I think that furthurs the speed metaphor. Really good work :) Can I post it on my blog (I mean a link) people SHOULD read this one. Let me know :)
ReplyDeleteYeah sure :) although ur readers may not like it... its not funny :)
ReplyDelete