#arid
Why plant
A fragile heart
In the wrong place
Setting it up
To suffocate
Like a tulip
In a xeriscape
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 1:04 AM UTC
Soma that seeps
flowing
like little creeks
sprinkling
off the edge
wetting
a tongue outstretched
watering
wilted flower beds
feeding
that pretty head
cycling
arid to wetlands
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 11:54 AM UTC
He had green fingers,
My heart was an arid patch,
Tenderly he planted love seeds in it.
He watered it with care,
Nurtured it with patience,
Tended the delicate shoots,
Sang duets with the fragile leaves,
Until my heart blossomed into a beautiful garden of heavenly, colourful love buds,
Which bloomed and diffused an exotic fragrance of love and happiness.
3/2/2019
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 3:32 PM UTC
I may be in a crowd,
With my friends and family,
But without you my love
I am lonely.
You have taken over my thoughts and my heart,
Without you my tears have dried,
My lips are parched,
My heart beats have slowed,
I am in a trance.
If you truly love me,
Come back, my love,
Bring greenery to my arid life.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 1:49 PM UTC
.
And I stumble on across the barren land,
the mist, like a shroud, about me swirls,
chipped flint rocks assault my bare feet,
an endless quarry of slate grey, my world.
So the curtain of sadness and submission falls,
covering my mind with an opaque funeral drape,
the hazy images of the isolated and desolate,
forming the features of depressions landscape.
Vaguely felt, the invasion of another waits,
blind and innocent in a palace of real fear,
set free to roam in a strange arid topography,
desperate times pause for vision to be clear.
A stark scene viewed through teardrops frozen,
by ice winds of piercing calamity and despair,
of a place exclusive to the disaffected and lonely,
the last retreat for an exhausted mind to repair.
And this is my world where the haunted party,
leave me be with my cold mists and grey stone,
the frozen tear for a souvenir means everything,
my special gift, the feeling of being utterly alone.
© Pagan Paul (24/01/18)
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 7:09 AM UTC
From sands I arise,
to the faded skies over,
these hardened eyes,
and overexposure.
The bone-dry plains,
and arid weather,
have crackled my skin.
this sun-baked nether.
Drain on morale,
and eroder of soul,
nothing left now,
so I dig my last hole.
the yellow-white sea,
it stretches on.
it thirsts for me.
I am--long gone.
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 1:30 AM UTC
Two souls beside, tied to a rock
inside arid wasteland
both wanting for
something or other and as the sky
drawing dark tells signs
wanting no more than to ignore
the coming storm, sidle
around in eager circles
Red, washing anger
down in rain
a divine cycle
dividing faith
from absolution's
true face
What do you look like, life?
To transcribe is my intent
but it's hard to begin to find when I'm
your invention, indentured
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 5:05 AM UTC