Poetry for me is a way of living, it comes out of nowhere and I have to write it down. How I write, what I write, I decide. I am not asking you to be judgemental. I am gifted with the ability to see beyond the obvious.
in the inky depth of that pool I feel safe from immeasurable flames I yearn for your breath that breath you stole from me in the guise of sleep in the waking hours. oh, it is just a dream- why did I allow it to erode me? I pull the sheet closer still, forgetting myth from truth. I put on a mask again throw a clay pebble into that imaginary pool no one will allow bend the rules- except you. except you.
that breath I need to keep in hiding- leave it on the doormat on your way out
"time just moves on with its own pace, unwavering about the aftermath- uncaring about what to come."
scented tentacles of alluring spices, do they make your mouth water? I have built a fence with bricks, now I hide in that tastefully decorated tasteless kitchen so that I won't cheat. nothing is left for me- everything tastes like gravel- I seem to wallow in trash. I precisely measure out portions- that balance that you gifted to me occupies a place of pride. my cooking is an amalgam- created in a vacant space, with no spark in sight. "no one notices the efforts of my dieting yet when I die, I will weigh much less" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Afterthought@10/21/13: This poem is NOT about me. I am definitely not into dieting. I believe in keeping healthy by proper nutrition and exercising. I am posting couple of pictures of myself....
my world is inside the binds it is expected when one has a drunkard owner I was born outside thunder brought me in I want to know what prophet said that I have to care for a sleepy person but yes I hold all the trumps when my owner moves in circles he is on edge not I life outside of that fence may be full of adventure but within the walls I am the master
when he will finally be sober and mends that fence I will jump out and seen no more
"yes, you see, I can jump that fence but I choose not to do it now because the leaves and weeds keep me enthralled"
what secret do the clocks hide- last I looked they blinked at me such clever gesture on their part I want to look at the stars but I look down hiding my face where will I nest in my twilight years time does not let me know hour hand of one of the clocks has swept away the cobwebs
I am now a basket case my flesh ripe for picking think what you may I cannot leave the cliches to chance don't let it be said I saw all and never conquered
"the weeds will die under my walking stick I would be left here, my bio carved in stone"
