“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Tuesday, March 22, 2016
Keeping it Inside Out (There)
Between you and I
secrets
Yes
You've seen parts
none cared
for, but me.
You see,
remember that time
you knew
I was lying
or the time
you knew truth
was hiding right there
and both times
you thought,
why not?
Or of a poet-
that needs words
that hold places for
secrets
that are not known
but shown
anyway...
In between
poetry shared
somewhere
someone
else may
someday
care
and keep
secrets
with me.
Image by Julia Margaret Cameron [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
White
Unopened mail on the counter, a meal half eaten sits on the table, fork frozen in position of the last bite. A world abandoned mid-sentence,...
-
Natures touch is both gentle and fierce. Homo sapiens trample on her back. The thick skin impossible to pierce. So...
-
A year ago this May, in fact, upon this same very grey day- something came over me I found could say, in no other way but to portray, ...
-
Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...

No comments:
Post a Comment