..
The sky has spoken.
Broken open, spilled
and filled me to the
brim with a mess
of un
-dressed sighs,
unstressed syllables
level in their waiting,
and I am feeling surreal,
cerulean, ocean blue
and kicked in foamy teeth.
We trump our own spin, begin
to bust open, visit bright systems
of fragmented stars, music
torn across this ebony
ceiling in a blanket of buzz.
Existing’s tricky.
But see, here’s the thing:
I think perhaps I have bartered my heart
for a set of broken wings.
..
wordled, with gratitude to E.E. Cummings.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
I would barter my heart for a set of broken wings (sigh).
Good to read you again.
Randy
This left me sighing too
Oh, we can work it and refurbish those wings and have you flying high in no time 🙂
I like that “surreal / cerulean” combination.
“We trump our own spin” ha – that has me thinking, of course, of you-know-who, who does indeed trump his own spin; lives on his own spin, somehow. Though I’m not sure you intended that correlation!
Love the title.
Hi De,
I love what you did with the words. I love this part and I can relate to it:
” I am feeling surreal,
cerulean, ocean blue
and kicked in foamy teeth.”
Pamela
Existing is def tricky. The sky helps and there are things we can do for broken wings. Loved your blend of words here.
A powerful, poetic drama. Grand finale in the last 2 lines.
And what a wise and joyful spill this is too – heart or broken wings..yes..would choose the latter also…a little stitching and how high we could fly – magic!
The surreal,
cerulean, rolls so nicely on the tongue.. really nice.
This is exquisite! I love that “teachable imp” hiding in the title. Or is it “I’m Post. Yours?” Beautiful opening line with all that lovely white space to enhance and emphasize its message, which makes me think of God.
These are my favorites:
“I am feeling surreal,
cerulean, ocean blue”
“We trump our own spin”
“visit bright systems
of fragmented stars”
Such an inspired closing:
“I think perhaps I have bartered my heart
for a set of broken wings.”
“Broken open, spilled”
This is almost like broken open pills. As if the sky is a drug. It kind of sounds like you’re dropping acid, though.
This is awesome! I love the way you write!
Love that ending, De!