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Pagan Paul May 7
So the smoke coils
surrounding a stray thought
clinging to the vine
as it weaves threads
into a tapestry
of fermented grape wrath.
His pen crawls
across the pages of life
and ignores the punctuation,
a plague infected word flow,
his stream of catharsis.
But the babble
intrudes and sounds irk,
sending resentment forward
like an advance guard
to meet the violence
and deflect the onslaught.
And the wave dies
as the aggressor retreats
before motley defence.
But the mood
has been tainted, spoiled,
despite a flirtatious distraction.
And the flame flickers
as the smoke coils,
and tired eyes avert their gaze
from the perceived ***** page,
the excrement of misery
smeared to make nostrils flare,
and the entry is left
incomplete …

© Pagan Paul (06/05/19)
4th entry in the Fool's Diary
Pagan Paul Apr 25
Impenetrable silence greets
as disappointment inside sweeps,
prey to another false start,
a fire needle to the heart.

And the secret twitch of an eye muscle
reveals the depth of pain in rejection,
the shame of being considered disposable
or a stop on the road to perfection.

© Pagan Paul (22/04/19)
Lyn-Purcell Jul 2018
In me, the flames
of conflict has me in pain
Mind, body and soul

I look to the sky
And I see your helping hands
That now calms my storms
Thank you for all the kind comments and messages on my poem, Phoenix.
Especially Pagan Paul and Sue!
I'm grateful for the helping hands.
Lyn ***

— The End —