creative writing, original piece, poem, poetry, writing

Late Spring

Predicting futures repeating into the past

this short season around your iris will everlast

Spicy earth drugs the air

wrapping around tentative tongues

Footsteps awaken puddles

as escaped muddy leaves

float under ripples of dancing trees

Your freckled, emerald eyes twinkle

alluring hopes to be and forgotten about

in this early summer, late spring.

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creative writing, original piece, poem, poetry, writing

Angels Light

Angels switch off stars

blackbirds begin a new song

chirping Sun awake

Moon moves on

soothing restless souls to sleep

owls observe from shady trees

Day and Night switching places

following the world’s slow spin

continuing our hearts duet

coaxing the solos of lonely beats

twirling with Times swirl

pulsating to the tick tock

flicking of Angels light.

creative writing, original piece, poem, poetry, writing

I Fell From the Ground and Landed in the Sky

My minds a forgotten doll

whose seams are ready to burst

as pills pop out of cottons cracks

prolonging the pounding

my heart sleeps in a dense grave

barely ringing chimes

disintegrating with every pump

wondering how many more times

my shell’s a crumbling coffin

no room to win in restriction

dust coats vision and bones are bitten

tongue can’t click conviction

my unspoken thoughts play

in opaque black silence

too tired to collect them

too hollow to try.

Too weak to push the lid

blow memories through the gap

and cry infront of strangers

maybe give directions

to find loose pins

doubting they could find a way

to stitch up the cracks in my dolls coffin.

poem, poetry

A Broken Harmony

Your lovely voice sings lyrics of anger

and I gladly keep your raving rap warm.

You turn my sorrow into giggling laughter,

our vibrating duet is an alarm.

This thumping beat is playing too fast

and my tangled feet are tapping too slow.

I change my language to make the song last

but now you begin to despise our flow.

Your vibrant tone mocks your twitching thumbs,

contrasting ideas skips to the blues,

my rhythm’s not in sync with these bitter drums.

Someone sings of tune; is it me or you?

 

Surprising to me, we’ll soon become strangers,

Regretfully indifferent to each others genres.