Jan 2018
dipped your locks
in a *** of gold,
beautiful as a haiku,
cryptic as a silent night.
I’m the clock with
a faulty second-hand,
my days made
with rings of mist.
now,
I picture your voice,
hear your skin,
names pile up
like a tower of cards
but the hearts aren’t real,
they never have been.
sing all the colours
the rainbow forgot.
I dip in my pen,
write the words
you’ll never see.
in a *** of gold,
beautiful as a haiku,
cryptic as a silent night.
I’m the clock with
a faulty second-hand,
my days made
with rings of mist.
now,
I picture your voice,
hear your skin,
names pile up
like a tower of cards
but the hearts aren’t real,
they never have been.
sing all the colours
the rainbow forgot.
I dip in my pen,
write the words
you’ll never see.
Written: January 2018.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time - slight changes possible. The first two lines are taken, albeit changed a little, from an Instagram post of October last year; I found it a striking image. All feedback welcome - as somebody who has used this website in 2012, feedback has always been quite low, so I hope a little more comes my way this year. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP, hopefully by the latter stages of this year.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time - slight changes possible. The first two lines are taken, albeit changed a little, from an Instagram post of October last year; I found it a striking image. All feedback welcome - as somebody who has used this website in 2012, feedback has always been quite low, so I hope a little more comes my way this year. A link to my Facebook writing page can be found on my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP, hopefully by the latter stages of this year.
