this poem


this poem sizzles,
singes, sings. there are things
this poem knows, but
will not tell. it spells re
-lief and wriggles free
of tasks and masks, hum
-anity. this poem is a struggling
song that knows no
difference be
-tween right and wrong. it’s all hung
up on silly string and
bright and bitter shiny things
and its own avalanche
of spill. it will un
-wind itself even
-tually, right after
its second after
-noon tea.




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6 Responses to this poem

  1. julespaige says:

    (I had something shorter but fat fingered a button that messed it up, made it disappear – so hopefully in re-tinkering it came out better…for you ma’am:)

    thusly inspired –

    the words strung (here)
    remind me of
    colorful prayer flags
    blowing gently in the breeze.
    there are so many spaces
    in between letters,
    words and sentences
    that only poets
    seem to be able to read…
    like that grass,
    the reed,
    that hollow straw
    that allows us to breathe
    while our faces are below water…
    as we watch
    the refracted light through liquid –
    listening to the flow
    of our own blood
    through our veins via
    the hammers pounding the anvils
    of our inner ears…


  2. 🙂 I need to get with having some afternoon tea with your sweet poem. I wish there were things I knew but would not tell… but then you have to wonder why… this poem may not be so sweet after all – why keep secrets? Most likely for our own good. Let’s have another spot of tea 🙂

  3. Pingback: thusly inspired – for Whimsy | Jules Longer Strands of Gems

  4. I LOVE this poem is poems…yours is stunning, De!! ♥

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