“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 seek. Show all posts
Showing posts with label seek. Show all posts
Thursday, October 17, 2019
Hunt(her)
She said to me the strangest thing,
I want to smell her alone-
away from the others
out of the masked scent
of deer and leaves-
The muse has her motives.
I am still
here
for you to pick up
the web-line
and feel me
waiting
for you
to find me
First.
I must warn you,
to not go too far or listen in too deep for
the Metaphor man who
speaks with more than his tongue.
It takes a second.
Imagine how he looks
back,
being a target is merely
one point to shoot for.
Painting by J. Alden Weir, 'Hunter and dogs' c. 1912 in [Public domain].
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
Feather weather
Before I arose the tangerine sunrise squeezed its citrus air through my bedroom window dripping fresh pulpy nectar of a new day onto the co...
-
Water Today, warm raindrops glass blurs, the blurry glassy, sharp sparkles sugar. Behind Evening, it was good. Leaves all turned into shadow...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
The ship sailed West on Sunday The wind was too wild on Wednesday Our arrow plane rips the paper sky, severing space for itself, i...
