Muted drops of sunshine,
Wedging amid the mess of grains
That bear my sand castle.
Stalking the imprints of words,
That impression on a clayborn pot,
Of winds grazing unheard.
Syllables sailing on scales of
A drowning fish dreading the shore,
One gasp swallows an ocean.
But the Waves go on.
They crash and arise,
Against the tauting coast.
My atoms of a similar kind,
Restless and hushed,
Caged to the gravity of an eclipsed moon.
A hummingbird searches his hum
In his inflated belly choked with tinkling
Uproars of a gusty wind chime.
A motorcycle's rude vale startles
The street lamps from their doze.
Who stole the night's crown ?
Was it a raven's rebuke ?
Or the stray mutt's whine ?
Where will I find mine ?
Feathers holding the Aviary down,
From flying away into the azure,
A threnody trills behind pursed lips.
Loud echoes shrivelling up the skin,
Drenching bones floating, shiver,
A littoral imprint away,
From the conch shells that lay
In a deep slumber
Under the blankets of heavy beige.
YOU ARE READING
Handwritten
Poetry"Sometimes I wonder If this is how it's supposed to be Can I make a choice ? Or is it all meant to be?"...
