THE BIRD
The bird outside my window sings with a cry,
Waking me from sleep early of a morning,
Then I rub my eyes and breathe out with a sigh.
276 works
The bird outside my window sings with a cry,
Waking me from sleep early of a morning,
Then I rub my eyes and breathe out with a sigh.
Why must life be
Enviously
Pursued by the one who scythes
She blew smoke
She’s no bloke
My heart’s broke
What’s behind a closed door?
I look at one now, white
I want to see through it
Walked under the moon
Three Thursdays ago
I looked through my eyes
Flashes of memory
Return to me when
False illusions feed my bad dreams,
Memories arrive uninvited—
Slamming the screen door--
Materializing out of thin air,
Fleeting days of warmth
Captured like glowing fireflies
Comfort for cold nights
Goofy gangly geese
Are not what they seem
They'll nip your tiny ticklish toes
The swan reflects upon the surface of the water,
As a poet contemplates their inner being and soul,
The reflection connects with the swan,
Travel...
from town to city,
from car to bus,
Poets and poetry are like script is to paper -
One is fit for use by the other;
Script and paper go hand in hand -
A middle-aged man of dubious character,
To other's eyes that behold him,
Dressed in fine clothes, fit for a master,
I delight in the beauty of a sunset sparkle,
Across a peaceful endless ocean,
The breeze creating tiny waves,
Dreaming of the future,
Dreaming of the past,
Dreaming of the present moment,
Don't matter you are not here!
Somewhere in the room
Your memories are hidden
The Universe cried
Out of your womb
Woman.
Our worlds
Inhabit the other's
With passion.
Those who honored
Vanished in the grave
Those who glorified
My mind got tired chasing trendy ghosts
And everything looks so absurd to me,
Today without a sense becomes a lost