NOTE:  this is the 1st poem I wrote and posted on HePo. I've managed to finish the first 2 parts and have been struggling with the 3rd; however much of last night was spent refining this initial section so I figured I'd post it in the hopes of receiving some constructive feedback. Thanks.
                                              -E.Lavi

                    ***

Dripdripdripdrip drip as it slips all it’s secrets, secrets slipped from the lip of the rusty metal moldy faucet, water whispers water whimpers water wishes of a time long gone; dripping water ever swirling round the beaten bolted sink; bolted to a wooden floor, chipped and nicked and cracked but grips, it grips the sink and won’t let go.

Secrets swirling round the sink into the void and through the pipes beneath the wooden boards of floor which would let loose their life-long grip of one worn weathered tired tethered reddish tinted rusty sink if only it - the wood! - if it could leave the floor it; the wood would stand and stretch and scratch and then would walk right out the door; wooden boards held hostage by a layered web of iron nails nailed years ago.

Creaking boards tell tales to pipes which snake throughout the secret house; Drip they drip they speak they slip through lips of sinks the secrets silent lip they drip and slip andio they rip and drip andrip they drip they dripdrip they ripipip i i…

Hush the whisper of the wind through broken windows rattles timber breaks the slumber of the man whose face is etched and leathered ever marked by hands of time; time played games the game of life the old man thought and thinks he still can stand and stretch and scratch then walk straight through the door and out the house, like secrets lost in rusty pipes he thinks he’ll walk into the dark and be whisked off on wings of wind which carries whispers rattles windows speaks in drips through rusty lips of bolted sinks gripped by the floors forever more and so the man will sit he sits and thinks and thinks he drips and drips drips dripdripipip i i i...

End Part 1

Layered.  Say you didn't know these were complex.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCXXXVII)


Blue skies peer thinly twixt the whiter tale
Of clouds whose stringy webs mask what, from hence?
The warming golden light half bleak, a sense
I maunt put down stalks through all that'd avail.
Ne shadows nor a flirting breath t'exhale
By even halves and I am jumpy, whence
What daffodils might nod can own intents
While folk tell April Fools jokes like we've bail.
Did I complain oer...jonquils' yellow tour
Of frilly heads and purple hy'cinth too?
Yes.  I said even ******* laundry's...poor,
Sith Mum is buried.  Taen from me now, who
Shall pity?  Sparrows e'en too distant fer
Aught smiles, I wonder if a man'd now woo.

01Apr17c

Sick of platitudes,
emotional contusions,
and little white lies.

I’m tired of the ghost;
this minefield of keywords and
it’s all just a game.

I’ve never had a
birthday party and now I’m
too old for magic

Light candles for me,
put a girl inside my cake.
Sing a song for me.

It’s just a party.
I’m just another sad boy.
Just another night.

After everything we've had,
After everything we've been through,
how could you let me go?
I guess I'm still not over you.

p.l.n.gr