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mackenzie-johnsonPoems
The sun's rays permeate the ever so tiny angular pores of the cascading white that shields the window pane blows a cool blanketed, billowing wave My glassy eyes adjust to light so new yet so familiar brings about such squared shapes with jagged edges Let me follow words words to a warm, orange center words to a core words to my soul shown like a film upon a wrinkled screen hazy, yet somehow clear to me Wisps of wind travel through the thin cracks exposed swiftly shifting the white so slight It dances almost parallel to the old glass dusted with faint film of a dried yesterday Turn the body adjust the mind remember what has been Turn over again, perhaps again until enough strength is gained to begin Tangled cerulean petals toe by tiny toe slightly frozen kick them away to reach what my feet know Other days I question if my knees will let me rise sunny Sunday is quite different because its sunrise enables my limbs and strengthens my bones and deeper than that awakens my soul It moves me to a movement to create a page of script and dwindling notes fall upon my scalp and like a leak in the ceiling they drip They seep through the bone upon wispy strands and knotted ends fingers surf to straighten What will be? I question what will become of me It's like we're born into something cool and crisp when an opportunity rests potential lies next to me lift the sheets to set it free Turn the body adjust the mind think of what will be
0
Sep 4, 2011
Sep 4, 2011 at 1:52 PM UTC
On a Sunday
The sun's rays permeate the ever so tiny angular pores of the cascading white that shields the window pane blows a cool blanketed, billowing wave My glassy eyes adjust to light so new yet so familiar brings about such squared shapes with jagged edges Let me follow words words to a warm, orange center words to a core words to my soul shown like a film upon a wrinkled screen hazy, yet somehow clear to me Wisps of wind travel through the thin cracks exposed swiftly shifting the white so slight It dances almost parallel to the old glass dusted with faint film of a dried yesterday Turn the body adjust the mind remember what has been Turn over again, perhaps again until enough strength is gained to begin Tangled cerulean petals toe by tiny toe slightly frozen kick them away to reach what my feet know Other days I question if my knees will let me rise sunny Sunday is quite different because its sunrise enables my limbs and strengthens my bones and deeper than that awakens my soul It moves me to a movement to create a page of script and dwindling notes fall upon my scalp and like a leak in the ceiling they drip They seep through the bone upon wispy strands and knotted ends fingers surf to straighten What will be? I question what will become of me It's like we're born into something cool and crisp when an opportunity rests potential lies next to me lift the sheets to set it free Turn the body adjust the mind think of what will be
mackenzie-johnson
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mackenzie-johnson
Sep 4, 2011
Sep 4, 2011 at 1:52 PM UTC
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