Array ( [sid] => 183261 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => night bizarre [time] => 2016-06-17 12:31:58 [hometext] => It/'/s impossible to talk or to write without apparently throwing oneself helplessly open.~Herman Melville [bodytext] => filled with sound
of thumping heart
and locusts rill
the scents
of dark dark
chocolate
and haze of sage
tangled dis-jointed
puppet limbs
prickled skin
watchful eyes
tiptoed ankle deep
through blazing
candles and flowers
carved of pearl
somethings
often are chaotic
yawning shadows
secret secrets
abstract poems
a split-world
leaking range
and almost
solid emptiness
of ink-stained
fingers/hands
ghostly joy
sleeplessness
and madness
Jill comes tumbling
poets are the magic
talking/writing
to themselves
noisy and alone
we the kings
and queens
of all our (in)sights and
sins remembered/forgotten
turn around once
twice three x/'/s lost
(closed doors)
out the window
unreal and untold
which way home
moon so bright
life is a trick/track/path
who howls, coy-dog? guide?
thick woods bushes and brambles
a business of words
or swarming bats
flitting/flying
it might have been
quick with wonder
the lonely air
braver in dusk/gloom
rearranging the disaligned
yellow-green moth
of white waving flower
running feet to root
ringing breath oh down
and around this wide world
web the poets are there
the prophets are quiet
in separate dreams
or crippled or dead
did you hear lies
and privilege?
whose left/write
to understand
you know me not
you know me
you and me
are you you?
love me not. [comments] => 7 [counter] => 224 [topic] => 73 [informant] => ming [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract ) Your Poetry Dot Com - night bizarre


night bizarre
Date: Friday, 17th June 2016 @ 12:31:58 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: ming
filled with sound
of thumping heart
and locusts rill
the scents
of dark dark
chocolate
and haze of sage
tangled dis-jointed
puppet limbs
prickled skin
watchful eyes
tiptoed ankle deep
through blazing
candles and flowers
carved of pearl
somethings
often are chaotic
yawning shadows
secret secrets
abstract poems
a split-world
leaking range
and almost
solid emptiness
of ink-stained
fingers/hands
ghostly joy
sleeplessness
and madness
Jill comes tumbling
poets are the magic
talking/writing
to themselves
noisy and alone
we the kings
and queens
of all our (in)sights and
sins remembered/forgotten
turn around once
twice three x/'/s lost
(closed doors)
out the window
unreal and untold
which way home
moon so bright
life is a trick/track/path
who howls, coy-dog? guide?
thick woods bushes and brambles
a business of words
or swarming bats
flitting/flying
it might have been
quick with wonder
the lonely air
braver in dusk/gloom
rearranging the disaligned
yellow-green moth
of white waving flower
running feet to root
ringing breath oh down
and around this wide world
web the poets are there
the prophets are quiet
in separate dreams
or crippled or dead
did you hear lies
and privilege?
whose left/write
to understand
you know me not
you know me
you and me
are you you?
love me not.

This poem is Copyright © ming


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