//We both felt dizzy with verses Electrified! Living in orchid Spaces Lucid— All those rhymes of yore Such widowed thoughts Our lonely oasis// /Moon passages And wicked faces Bespoke suits, Poetic races Discerning fables and Fizzy odes/ //We both felt dizzy with verses Electrified! Living in orchid Spaces Such widowed thoughts One homely oasis Lucid— All the rhymes Of yore//
Tag: free verse
The Departed
He felt like sneezing; laughing to himself; or remaining silent Helplessly searching for drowsy stories to put into words "Finish that page!" the choir - w h i l e h e h u m m e d a h o p e f u l t u n e - kept chanting And then, just like that, he departed Thankful for the life he’d lived loved l e f t
tiptoe
I tiptoe around this, my d r e a m garden as you undress my thoughts with d e f t hands a bright blue M o o n just won’t stop shining even as the t i m e comes to w a k e u p
liminal spaces
/ forgetful regretful a mindful path of multi-storied v e r s e s / searching for liminal s p a c e s observing those pondering f a c e s * . . . o p p o n e n t s aware contenders— beware of those doubtful intentions unspoken d i s s e n t i o n s . . . sketched on damp paper— and never aired * / forgetful regretful a mindful path of multi-storied v e r s e s / searching for liminal s p a c e s fierce like assonant traces you can now view— though I n e v e r b a r e d
allure
allure, allure, a silent sulk a smile, a doubt ~ A change of r o u t e ~ a fear of drought, these crispy beds. the linens—blue ~ The eternal s h a d e s ~ with open eyes these thought parades— I sense them all ~ The storm p e r v a d e s ~ it rains and rains, and soaks the truth— all magic rites ~ A silent s u l k ~ allure, allure this hidden truth. a smile, some doubt, ~ This endless s h o u t ~ the sweaty words, these crispy beds. the sirens—blue ~ The calmness f a d e s ~ with open eyes those thought parades— I sense them all ~ T h e s t o r m p e r v a d e s ~
Lights On
Feeling homesick all stranded left the building keys inside it— no way back He’s now so lost Lights are on the lamp still shining those shelves— empty Books all gone Who’s the liar who’s the beggar who’s the thief— This empty soul Feeling homesick all stranded left the building keys inside it— no way back He’s now so lost He’s got talent he’s a genius such smoked mirage— portrait, Pawn
ice tickles
Moving on with life— enhancing m o s o d / ice won’t break as you skate o n / Drawing on this sensual, s l i p p e r y s r a e u f c / enraptured by those i c e t i c k l e s / Feet moving to the sound of a s i l e n t w i p r h s e / ice won’t break as you skate o n / An ageless s u p e r n o v a in this perpetual w i n t e r s k y
writerly
I read overread, skim-read, d a n c e & r a e d . and, while r e a d i n g b e t w e e n t h e l i n e s I keep losing my t r a i n o f t o g t h u h . . I don’t wanna read overread— or misread ! d r i n k & r a e d . . . S o , I w r i t e *********** It’s been a while since my last post (Or my last writing activity, for that matter) Now, slooowly, getting back to writing mood Please bear with me - While I invoke my Free verse muse Happy to be back, beautiful, naughty, dark & clever WordPress souls !
ink rain weather
Walking barefoot on fresh grass rain keeps smearing this old draft / Faint reflections o f o u r d a m p r e a l i t y / Dizzy letters all get blurred eerie story— last line slurred / D r i z z l i n g lines in ink rain weather / Books all tattered, O, too frail! this ink watered down— too pale All these stories drowning, bold; fading lines on torn page drawn / Faint reflections o f o u r d a m p r e a l i t y / (Were they really any good, though? I wonder now— too late) / D r i z z l i n g lines in ink rain weather /
p o e t r y. s o l d i e r s.
Dreading the fictions and their inner imaginings willingly embracing the poetry in those eager fingers / Unforgiving Eyes / Will you remember those words W h e n y o u a r e o l d - W h e n s h e ’ s g o n e ? Poetry soldiers missing in action— silent whispers that do not speak wonders, yet reveal half truths / Unforgiving Lies / Will you remember their words W h e n s h e’ s o l d - W h e n y o u ’ r e g o n e ? Dreading the fictions and their inner imaginings willingly embracing the poetry in those eager fingers / Unforgiving Minds / Like the poetry soldiers missing in action— yearning for fictions to evolve from abstractions Minds, eyes, white lies, soft words— barely whispered— under b l a z i n g e n e m y s k i e s