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josh-wongPoems
Her face- A thousand suns, A cosmic dance under The ever-expanding escape; The curtains that fall heavily Upon the eyes of oblivion. Her hands- A fox running Through the meadow; The open cages that Confine gloom back Into its prison. Her eyes- An indefinite eternity, Through which both Dark and light speak; The great Illusionist. Her lips- A bitter moonlight Casting its shadow upon Persisting glow; The ripeness of a Mango in its season. Her feet- A battered road Folding upon itself As it struggles to find Its way home; The seeds scattered In every empty hole. Her- A desolate daydream That runs through Unbounded space; The deep ocean trench I’ve completely Drowned in.
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May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 12:02 PM UTC
The Blanks
Her face- A thousand suns, A cosmic dance under The ever-expanding escape; The curtains that fall heavily Upon the eyes of oblivion. Her hands- A fox running Through the meadow; The open cages that Confine gloom back Into its prison. Her eyes- An indefinite eternity, Through which both Dark and light speak; The great Illusionist. Her lips- A bitter moonlight Casting its shadow upon Persisting glow; The ripeness of a Mango in its season. Her feet- A battered road Folding upon itself As it struggles to find Its way home; The seeds scattered In every empty hole. Her- A desolate daydream That runs through Unbounded space; The deep ocean trench I’ve completely Drowned in.
#salamat#at#paalam
josh-wong
Written by
josh-wong
May 7, 2017
May 7, 2017 at 12:02 PM UTC
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