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 /
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
She yearned to
become a spy
yet she failed
so miserably
She walked
the long walk
and dressed
in hued tones
She hushed the
sharp tongues
and asked for
bad karma
For those
that would
play her—
the good ones
obeyed her
Lila yearned to
become a spy
yet she failed
so miserably
She wore her
dark shades,
unravelled
dark plots
/ with feline intention
and birdlike precision /
Yet her wings
she did not
want to
get
w
e
t
So she’d run
under cover
on rainy
days
It was always
warmer
by that
fireplace
She yearned
to become a spy—
Yet she failed
so miserably
I wish I’d never
let you read
any of the stories
in my draft
book
Since I always knew
you’d just skim
through
those
pages
( Lousy reader
that you were—
now, your time, pronto!
to get back
to school )
This is
a book
that will
never get
published
Too bad you
trashed
the draft
upon first
reading
Too good
you’ll never
ever get
to read
the end,
One so tenderly
written in my
doctor’s
handwriting -
undecipherable,
for
my
Failed
R e a d er
E x t r a o r d i n a i r e
We used to dream
of brighter futures,
features concealed
by demure
v e i l s
Souls almost blurred
by shy, dry tears
fears hinted in those
faces—dark and
p a l e
Oppressive times,
so stark and fearful,
Venetian masks
silencing those worry
t a l e s
We used to dream
of brighter futures,
features concealed
by demure
v e i l s
What face we’d find
under such attires—
question harassing our
snotty brains, those
d a y s
We used to dream
of brighter futures,
features concealed
by demure
v e i l s
Oppressive times,
so stark and fearful,
there was only so much
hope to fight those
w a i l s
Momentum for change
Lost opportunity? —
We’d never wish
for those sad days to
s t a y
We used to dream
of brighter futures,
features concealed
by demure
v e i l s
What face we’d find
under such attires—
colourful masks
silencing our worried
faces—dark and
p a l e
She trespasses
the confines
of this purple
forest,
the one
I
just
i
m
a
g
i
n
e
d
My legs
dangling
in the air—
u n n e r v e d
by the lack
of motion
of recent
days
She twists
and turns
and sings
and rhymes—
Mother of verse
Sister of bored
d e s p a i r—
with frenzied
flow
Her feet
tapping
to the sound
of a tune
only I
can
h
e
a
r
rarity
gravity
willowy
s i g t h s
sensing
the
fears
that pierce
through your
body
mind
soul
and
thy
h
e
a
r
t
*
rarity
gravity
magical
n i g t h s
drying
these tears
all sensing
the fears
that pierce
through the
body
mind
soul
and
my
h
e
a
r
t
*
rarity
gravity
subdued
star
l i g h t
tearful,
silent,
day-dreaming
we stumble on
willowy
s i g h t s
*
drunk with
wild wonders
day-dreaming
we tumble,
we write,
dream, still,
humble,
f l o a t ,
w e i g h t l e s s ,
t o n i g h t
night of the monsters
land of the ghosts
fighting the dragons—
all the night hosts
flight or
free-falling
at dusk—
such dark ride
wild and
sky diving—
a spiralling
mind
night of the monsters
land of the ghosts
fight of the dragons—
by rugged coasts
flight or
free-falling—
the sound of
false tunes
those wicked
noises,
all the sky
croons
play to deaf ears
through all glossy trails—
flight or free-falling,
smokey travails
night of the monsters
land of the ghosts
fighting the dragons
in nightmares they boast
flight or
free-falling
at night—
such dark ride
all but
divining—
a spiralling
mind
cold-blooded smile
and somber cues
you think
you laugh —
but
inside she’s
s m i l i n g
her fingers now
holding her
serpent brush —
as she dyes
new days
with ocher
embracing
l a y e r s
black stilettos found
in her long-forgotten
chest of time
nearly crying out —
barefoot days
a r e o v e r
while her canvas,
fair
sets those
h
e
e
l
s
alight,
cold-blooded
s m i l e —
stomping feet
through
p l i g h t
her fingers, now,
firmly hold
the brush—
as she paints
new days
with ocher
embracing
l a y e r s
high-heeled,
great
shine,
warm-blooded,
s l i g h t ,
you think
she cries —
but,
inside,
s h e ’ s
s m i l i n g
i tried too hard
to catch a glimpse
of your soul
on your
fragile
m i r r o r
the one
I forgot to clean
when I got
home
really late at
n i g h t
falling asleep
while fighting
ghosts I’d only
heard about,
not even quite,
i m a g i ne d
for they
never
really existed,
all but a fake reflection
of your silent,
deadly,
maddened,
b i t e
LannaZee 