“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 sadness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sadness. Show all posts
Saturday, March 16, 2019
Clear as mud
Enveloped, as I had been
folded
into the dark mournings,
one after the next stroke of
grey palette,
And when standing
upright
among the five foot stalks
of daisies and poppies
where painted ladies
couple up twisting aloft
precipitation,
and what precedes,
a worm, a cloud, a momentary
levitation
inconsistencies become solid
Silver change strewn across
the steel
sea,
sense
the bottom
of the well, whereby my feet
have sunk
in.
Artwork by Umberto Boccioni, c. 1902 [CC0] in Public Domain.
Friday, July 11, 2014
The Woe I Know
Brain is dead
heart is bled
heavy chest
interrupted breaths
grave moments
crashing sobs
temples throb
bodily torture
wax-paper wipes
comfortless needs
paintbrush umbrella
wrestling pillows
writhing limbs
screams inside
loud as red
hands tick and tremor
long and never
pitiful depths
of mire.
Gasping breaths
morose prose
muffled in suffocation
lingers in lobes
furious white flashes
deep in green monster caverns
incinerating ideas chanting
noxious notes swim
in flooded leaden sorrow
Painting Oil on canvas by Belmiro de Almeida 1858-1935[Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
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