“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Showing posts with label explosive. Show all posts
Showing posts with label explosive. Show all posts
Monday, January 13, 2020
Combustible
Blinded and spotted
with double vision
of two
dancing around
the ring, the pit, the issues,
the pyre and flames,
the names
we use
in Love...
The elements
were all presiding
outdoors.
The smoke moves us
around
the light flickers
and pops as it catches
on...
This orange glow,
we know
the truth is
coming together
these cold nights
bonfires seeking
vanity
are explosive,
knotted and ingrained.
We agree
wholeheartedly,
we are only we,
individually.
Painting by Paul Gaugin, 'Upa, Upa (the fire dance)' c. 1891 in Public Domain.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
Drizzle
The muse has been muted while we are both listening for some reason- we have both observed; Profound is not discovery, Epiphany is no certa...
-
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, ...
-
Sun lifting the veil of purple sky- might bronze forge strength pungent as the turned dirt? Thirsting through exposition, hi...
