from my back
past the clouds
stardust leaking from the gouges
in my splintered bones
pushed by the shadow
of moonlight glow
until the Earth
swallowed me whole.
Ingested was I then, into
the pit of hell
and I fell
where no bottom
has ever been found
Loquacious the thoughts, crowded
inside this cramped space,
jostling for freedom. They bicker,
justifying the preservation of
their lame existences.
Some have been here a long time;
Others, not so long.
Most will die and be interred here.
The lucky ones will make
it to paper, one day.
Image source: João Silas
You don’t need a strategy
to conquer this experienced heart;
you just need to show me
the truths in your own
am I with the phrases
weaving them with intricate images
into the fabric of lines you stitch
to create beautiful poetry.
Image source: Igor Ovsyannykov
It will take time to fix this heart,
to dig all its shattered pieces
from the crevices of unrequited love.
there could be
Image source: google
Words like sun rays pierce the heart,
melting like chocolate in the hand;
Music plays when the loving starts;
twirling with you on blissful sand.
*Thank you, Diana, for the inspiration 🙂 ❤
*Image source: Pinterest
…and what of the infant day,
too young to know the difference
between love we are born with
and loves we learn to accept
from the world around us
…and what of the teenage day,
too immature to understand that
love and lust are a mixed bag of tricks
carried by the genuine and the deceitful
both eager for us to make selection
…and what of the adult day
caught-up in the comings and goings of life
barely time to enjoy love or lust
as it tries to keep up with the neighbours
with society’s social media norms
…and what of the aged day,
weather beaten but too-late-wise
watching as the sun slowly sets
on all the could’ve-would’ve-should’ves
too late now to make peace
*Image source: google
*Trying to expand my poetry.