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 Sep 2021 TheIdleOwl
Notepad
If only
 Sep 2021 TheIdleOwl
Notepad
If only you knew
My eyes would howl at the moon
Tears of crystal blue
That you were my only one
Before you fade in the light
I realised,
I've
been Loving
People, in poverty
_
Long time no see:!
TEACH/HER?...I THE TAUGHT!

I taught my daughter
as a dutiful father
her ABC's...her 123's

but as my daughter
she taught her father
how to see a world

as newly new
as 3 year old's
do. . .do

and I much more
the richer for her
world's view
 Sep 2021 TheIdleOwl
Kimiko
Poor little bird
trap in a cage
singing her melodies
to hide her rage
No one can see
her heart in misery
all they say is
she's so pretty
 Sep 2021 TheIdleOwl
SCHEDAR
Trees
 Sep 2021 TheIdleOwl
SCHEDAR
Trees
I know nothing about them
but,
they mean everything
to me
Each one
a branching group of wizards
waving their wands up to
the sky
Inviting the magic of inspiration
 Sep 2021 TheIdleOwl
fray narte
I'll always feel in my chest broken Septembers. I am languishing with the days, head first to a point of no return. I am the ghost of an abducted goddess, the one who bled all over saffrons and still holds on to her sorrows. I bid farewell to the sunglow on wildflowers. I bid farewell to daylit copper fields. I bid farewell to golden hours, as down I descend to the sweetest madness, and up it goes to consume me.
 Sep 2021 TheIdleOwl
fray narte
pandora opens her chest at midnight:
it is a box left out in the rain,
a wound unstitched in despair for october,
a small voice hushed by forlorn hours.

and dead gods forget so easily,
but
pandora still opens her chest at midnight
and the walls huddle to look at an ugly wound
left open to bleed all over
dusty pink cosmos flowers.
and drapes huddle, too,
to look at a nest of sorrows creeping about,
as though a wake, a vigil,
a somber watch that only ends
with all of my bones breaking.

but dead gods forget so easily,
and dead girls forget so easily,
and i forget so easily
all the aching hours that had kissed my skin
and their graceless, moonlit pull,
and i am left to lie
languishing on soft, breakable spots.

and so pandora closes her chest:
a box to never be opened, a vault behind a frame.
a flash of stray light on a wound sealed shut. safe. secure.
there is no space for conspicuous melancholies.
there is no space for anything —
there is no space for hope.

and the gods forget so easily.
 Sep 2021 TheIdleOwl
fray narte
the dusk wastes its pity on me. in its muted retiring lights, i have learned a terrible habit of forcing poems out of my mouth,
when maybe all i wanna do is be as quiet as the wounds nesting inside my head.
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