Sleepy days and
blooming nights —
f i e l d s
drying out
of fine
c o f f e e
A nice, slow sip,
tasting some
fancy b e a n s —
a fragrant future
drawn on my
bitter e s p r e s s o
I stole a puff
blowing some faint
s m o k e verse —
but your tired eyes
wouldn’t read
f u z z y letters
S l o w words, fake rain,
dripping on
h o p e f u l grass —
some shattered glass
Spilling red ink
onto w e t p a g e
On sleepy days,
I write a faint
smoke v e r s e —
Our fragrant future
d r a w n on a
bitter espresso
//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//
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
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
/ 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,
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 ~
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
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
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 !
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 /
LannaZee 