scribbles
//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
A yellow rose
a bright red Moon
these wrinkled thoughts—
they need
some ironing
I outstretch my arms,
I yawn, I smile—
safe in the knowledge
that I am not
immortal
/Loathing
this endless
loop of
lazy sounds/
*
A yellow rose
a bright red Moon
those wrinkled thoughts—
they crave
some irony
A spider web
some deep, brown eyes—
a saturnine reflection
in my morning
coffee
/Loathing
this endless
loop of
lazy sounds/
*
A yellow rose
a bright red Moon
those wrinkled thoughts—
they need
some ironing
Where did She go?
I sensed her, near—
yet now she's
nowhere around
to be seen
/O Muse, come back,
bearing harmonious gifts—
effacing this senseless
loop of lazy
s o u n d s/
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 ~
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
I often
get lost
in your
canvas
p a l a c e
My hands
all dirty
with
old
p a i n t
What’s the colour
of your
dreams?
I d a r e
a s k
Yet you
never
utter
a single
w o r d
So I strive to
find my
answer
in ink
s k e t c h e s
*
I often
get lost
in your
canvas
p a l a c e
My hands
all dirty
with
old
p a i n t
What’s the colour
of your
dreams?
I d a r e
a s k
Those
undecipherable
ink
s
t
r
o
k
e
s
Paint
pirouettes
that won't
tell any
t a l e s
*
My dreams
are
sometimes
coloured
y e l l o w
— with
a
dash
of
b l u e —
Your eyes closed,
while I get lost
in the true opacity
of those abstract
i m a g e s
So I let
all shades sink in—
colouring your reverie
back to
r e a l i t y
Raining feathers misty light the sound of a waterfall nursing me into sleep Vigilant feelings bleeding into free-wheeling thoughts, a window about to swing open— one I didn’t want to see through The widowed tales of nighttime dreams, the ones I tried to tell by heart— with the worldly decorum of the raconteur Raining feathers misty light the sound of a waterfall nursing me into sleep
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
LannaZee 