“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 sleepless. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sleepless. Show all posts
Saturday, February 11, 2017
Counting Sleeps: A Bah-lid
Don't I dream anymore?
How to say,
I mean the real you
pixel on a big picture,
just too much macro-clysm
to mouth out, I conceive.
Mostly,
breathing through it, as I
must.
Wanting not of mine,
not that I would
disagree in contentment.
And all of those steps made today,
left right traces
blown away...
Somewhere may we-
someplace, let us-want to
make some thing interesting
since I cannot sleep
under such a new moon.
For now,
I would join you since you too
are going my way...
Painting by Władysław Ślewiński (1896) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
And then...
Change is like that strong smell of cut grass or chopped wood that stops you still. Patterns, a symbol can be an illegible sign, at first...
-
1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
-
Today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two. The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. In California...
-
This world is not for breath for feelings also come and go. As hard and light as Push and pull Go. Busy hands and bees-electricity, alter...