Tag: fiction

ink rain weather

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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.

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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

literary glimpses

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those true
identities
w e  c a m e  t o
i   n   h   a   b   i   t

yet only
lived
i n  l i t e r a r y
w   o   r   l   d   s

unwritten
stories
of our 
t r u e 
d   e   s   i   r   e   s

in rhyme
embellished
nice pace,
s w i f t
w   o   r   d   s 

identity-
empty
f i c t i o n a l ,
i   m   a   g   i   n   e   d

lyrically
beautiful,
ghostly,
s a v a g e d ,
f   o   r   c   e   d

those true
identities
w e  c a m e  t o
i   n   h   a   b   i   t

yet only
glimpsed
through
d  a  r  k
t   h   i   c   k
s    m     o     k    e