"cordon" poems
I went to the Cordon Bleu
And my name is Pierre
I work in the kitchen
I’m a French chef extraordinaire
With fine French food
My name is synonymous
But I am an addict
I attend McDonalds Anonymous
When I make a quiche
I just want to hug it
But I keep getting cravings
For a Chicken McNugget
Fast food or French food
I am conflicted
Fast food or French food
Yes I am addicted
The 12-step program
Keeps me on track
I have to fight my desire
To binge on Big Mac
I pretend I’m a food snob
My life’s full of lies
When I buy burgers
I must wear a disguise
I should come out of the closet
Admit my transgressions
Then they would accept me
For my fast food obsessions
Maybe the other chefs
Would heap me with praise
If I smothered my Big Macs
With Sauce Hollandaise
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
I love you more than chocolate fudge
And even more than cheesecake.
Even more than the finest meal
A Cordon Bleu chef can make.
I love you more than Disneyland
More than my birthday celebration.
More then the most beautiful work
Of the very finest artist's creation.
I love you beyond the most distant star.
I love you best when we are together.
I love you always wherever you are.
And I am going to love you forever.
I love you more than a brand-new car.
So much more than fancy new shoes.
Multitudes more than a diamond ring.
I love you more than an ocean cruise.
Lucky is not a strong enough word;
More than fortunate is how I feel.
I love you so much my darling
That it seems almost beyond real.
I love you beyond the most distant star.
I love you best when we are together.
I love you always wherever you are.
And I am going to love you forever.
Like a magical romantic movie
Bells can ring and rainbows appear
And in the middle of it all will be me
Smiling widely from ear to ear.
This bit of my own poetry may be
Pie-eyed and even a bit sappy.
But I can find no other clearcut way
To say how much you make me happy.
I love you beyond the most distant star.
I love you best when we are together.
I love you always wherever you are.
And I am going to love you forever.
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 1:43 AM UTC
We’ve been herded by hook and crook,
To obey convention, and read textbook.
The uniformity is maddening,
And the subjects are baffling.
The whole wide world is grand and open;
Why cordon the mind off in a tiny token?
Rules were meant to be broken,
To usher change and issue motion.
Creativity, art, they build up cultures,
Not to be picked at by robotic vultures.
They always nitpick and they scavenge,
Intent on making things a challenge.
Passion is the cornerstone of all,
It survives when things are squall.
It’s the sun that rises within you,
Makes you things you never knew.
Question everything, for your good;
You’ll find more than you ever could.
Explore everything, be curious;
For the world out there is glorious.
Challenge everything, be skeptical;
Your brain is knowledge’s receptacle.
Think outside, and break the rules;
Don’t blindly follow, like the fools.
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
With the magical banner held high
invoking the crocodile rain of oppression by elites
of greed by leeches and bacteria, amoebas and suckers
oh come all come one, join our revolution against dark powers
Oh.. who in rightful mind could refuse
off she went to hear hot propaganda of those high and mighty folks
who took food from baby's mouth and live likes kings in our homes
fed in Le Cordon Bleu a'la Rouge with lashings of aspic fabrications
Without hesitation she swallowed all up,
I'm in and I am an Activist show me the culprit, what can I do
all for one, one for all, that parasite deserves miseries and doom
Easy comrade sister, get to know him and help us do his head in
It's a sport for us that elitist blood sucker
just get under his skin for us, let's play his mind and infest his head
report back to us, inner knowledge is power and we're fighting a war
comrade sister, our hot Activist marched forth on with vim and vigor
comrade sister wholly followed her brief
though soon saw things weren't as the revolutionaries presented
conflicted and confused she felt pity for a rare icon held in gallows
but the majority carries the vote and all is fair in love and red war
At her cost and with a wretched heart she gave her all
did as she was told and played her part as a true comrade in line
Solidarity she give to the fight, was mean and nasty as demanded
It's them or us they say and see comrades I give my services to you
all
No medals for Comrade sister, no epaulette yet earned
rather at her cost her privacy invaded and smears throws at her
tales of dark deeds and loose morals hung on her in dark corners
yet that poor heroine fought and gave so much blood for the cause
where is the honour amongst thieves and knaves
she did all that was required of her
told the lies she was made to tell and played the game as taught
stood at the barricades and ****** her guilt and conscience
yet they still don't trust her for paranoia rules them all
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 3:31 PM UTC
Little ant, so small and insignificant
Yet in numbers up an elephant’s snout
How easily you make him indisposed
Lesson to learn: strength in numbers
Maxim to remember: unity of purpose
Oh termite, thou destroyer of civilizations!
How mighty when surreptitiously you creep in
Such ingenious civil engineering feats everywhere
Orderly highways with neither jams nor congestion
And tall imposing castles kissing the air proudly
Result: new architectures plagiarizing your prototype!
And you wasp of constricted waist and mean toxin
You make no attempt to hide or disguise your dwelling
Yours is a house built upon a hill for all to see and tremble
They say when a man has no obvious protection keep away
Lest you trigger subtle forces that mesmerize and pulverize you
Lesson from this: commandos are modern day human wasps
Everybody owes the bee everything, from sweetness to health
The bees a-buzzing speak of persistence and how it breaks barriers
In the end you listen because the message is ceaseless and urgent
And oh sweet bee of the hot sting shot from your posterior
No cordon bleu chef anywhere can ever approximate your finesse
Your formula and patent are hedged with natural mystery
Lesson to learn: the bitter and the sweet in judicious mixture!
Now little man recently so puffed-up and conceited and ever so inadequate
Hear ye this and know it well lest you stumble and fall into dark precipices
You’re nothing and you’ve created nothing; there’s a prototype of everything
In nature’s wonder store of huge surprises and unassuming wisdom
Lesson from all this: one day the other world will rise up and assert it itself
So steer your course differently and beware of those who bide their time
Grim in their purpose and determined in their unshakable resolve
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 4:00 AM UTC
The Perfect Combination
A-1 on your sirloin
Butter on your bread
Chocolate on your ice cream
Or butterscotch instead
Cream cheese on your bagels
Jelly on your toast
Maybe peanut butter
Which do you like the most
Salsa for tamales
Lemon for your fish
Onion dip for vegetables
Delicious on your dish
Pinto beans in chili
Carrots cooked in stew
Bacon on your meatloaf
Chicken cordon bleu
Chives on your potato
Sugar in your tea
Pickles on your burger
Crackers for your cheese
Garlic for your pasta
Sauce upon it too
Milk poured in your cereal
Slices of fresh fruit
Gravy on your biscuits
Sausage would be nice
Cocktail sauce for jumbo shrimp
In a bowl with ice
Syrup on your pancakes
Frosting on your cake
Cream upon your peaches
A salt and pepper shake
Caramel on your apples
Seafood and white wine
Cottage cheese upon your pears
It’s so much fun to dine
Mayo on your sandwich
Ketchup on your fries
Dressing on your salad
Whipped cream on your pies
So many combinations
That we see each day
When we’re having dinner
Breakfast, lunch or play
To enhance each other
Nothing left to waste
Flavors come together
In the name of taste
There’s one combination
The best one I can see
Not to do with eating
Because it’s you and me
So perfect now together
Like ham on top of cheese
Lettuce and tomato
Onions in your peas
Wonderful together
Sometimes sweet or ****
Soft and always tender
This love inside our hearts
Of all the perfect pairings
Only one will do
This combination built on love
Forever me and you
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 8:12 AM UTC
como la base, el cordon
de pasion, que une dos personas
la tibia conexion, de miel
y fuego, pero solo, en
llamas.
como un pira eterna, sin
descanzo, sin ojos, que como
balsamo, ayuden a mitigar
el dolor, que quema como
la soledad, del que ama en la
distancia.
que ve en los ojos ajenos
los de aquella que lo esperaba,
y que lo ama aun.
perdido, incompleto, fatuo,
sin conexion, irrebediablemente,
deambulando entre los hombres.
como cuerpo sin alma,
como hombre sin corazon,
pues esta en las manos de
la que lo amo.
con los ojos perdidos, en
el aparente desinteres,
la noche acarrea, mis pasos
de incompleta plenitud.
absorto en mi mente, el deseo tantrico
yace subsole, como mina abandonada
en la penumbra, de una veta.
el fatuo deseo, se escapa entre estertores,
de un fuego eterno, que nunca se apaga,
solo su balsamo, de color palorosa, amaina
el fuego incompleto, tacito,
fatuo
inconexo.
mientras subsole, frente
mar, las dos sueñan
con el hijo de venus,
pero nunca lo tendran.
en una decadente, fiesta eterna
donde solo sufren, por el amor
que no pueden tener.
davide montecinos.
Jul 6, 2016
Jul 6, 2016 at 8:43 AM UTC
I can't fry an egg, sunny side up
becomes nasty pulp
I'll try to do a roast
but you'll probably end up with beans and toast
I'll try to do a coddle
but it won't be a doddle
if you want cordon bleu
forget it, but I might attempt a stew
my dessert will probably fill you with mirth
you'd give it a wide berth
I mightn't be a good cook
but if you want a night filled with glee
come visit me
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 9:28 AM UTC
No Cordon Bleu
Now this chef was no cordon bleu
But knew a dip from a fondue.
He was always at ease
When he had to serve cheese
Well he always fancied the Danish Blue.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
I beat back the worry And the wish for me.
I provide you with a taste of my presence and my words.
I sate your hunger for my attention.
And then I recede into myself.
Ever I am in flux.
Are you hungry,am I tired?
Which need is greater?
How can I give to you what I do not have?
I hide my emptiness by hiding it at the bottom of my perceived depth.
If I seem deep, of is only because I'm digging the hole.
And I cordon off an acre around it,
Because God forbid somebody fall faster than I can dig.
Once you get to the bottom of me,
I'm just like everyone else.
Empty.
Hungry.
Lonely.
Trying to fill myself up,but unable to find what fills me.
Trying to sate my appetites,but they always grow.
Trying to feel known,but torn between hiding and showing myself.
Happiness evades me.
I am colored pervasively by my lack.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 3:31 AM UTC
Cordon off the tombstone Nellie
Hide your spleen from sight,
Render clean the history Nellie
Make it all seem right.
Remember well your anger Nellie
How you stabbed so hard,
And buried deep your nemesis
Beneath the dunghill yard.
Wash your hands of blood my Darling
Rinse your eyes of bile,
Knowing that forgetfulness
Will help you for a while.
Tally up the score my Nellie
For bleak as it may seem,
Much lesser men have won at court
With margins half as keen.
Saddened eyes are weeping Nellie
They called you to account,
Rough rope at dawn around your throat
At yonder wooded mount
Call the baying hounds in Nellie
Tether them up tight,
For misery’s afoot with gallows
Trudging into sight.
Watch the darkness fade so softly
Bask in rising sun,
Savour these, your last sensation,
Now your time is done.
It’s tantamount to crying Nellie
Prone there as you lie,
Grey locks awry in meadow green
As brilliant blue eyes die.
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
12 June 2010
Jun 11, 2010
Jun 11, 2010 at 1:10 PM UTC
Crime Scene
(Flint, Michigan)
Yellow cordon tape hums
low in a stiff breeze off
Saginaw Bay
a norther that scatters
empty evidence markers
up and down Miller Road
eddies on Dupont Street
uncapped and droning.
Tennyson, Bishop and Frost
lost for words
this morning working
my way through a pallet of water
dead poets urgent
as blue sky box kites
specks above a crime scene
easing the truck past
houses of the common
abandoned down Whitman
transcendence, surely
for those forbearing souls
over on Emerson.
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 7:07 AM UTC
The forgotten handshake is already embarrassingly serious; as the imprint of chalk-faced faces will you be an aggressor, or perhaps a conciliator who will redeem your loved ones?! Conscious fear runs through the rails of your laid soul! The effort to get there is everywhere! A family home may not be waiting for who really deserves it! Everyone stops near the top of their careers if there is no broker or protégé behind them! Confidence can also be gained with insufficient professional qualifications!
What makes a man of shipwrecked spirits disappointing and wild is the prediction of **** Fashionable idiocy, which, like a good thing, sticks to the human character and leaves a pimple behind as a cold! - Chirping nymphs, flirting with prostitutes as flirting prostitutes, while having a solarium pass instead of a mind! Fallen prophets, as a rigid rule, tend to flee from wolf laws; the Vibrant hits the exposed concretes of firewalls!
In the throbbing glands, the vigor arises; phlegm disguised as help Promise! A crisis that replaces ambiguity; awareness is roaring among sizzling critics! The double cordon raises an objection if you really want to know others! Kushadnia wonder why in every Age a person should be, who is average?! The child of flattening compulsions is back! In the vegetation below, everyone is scratching and flattening their own benefit and there can be no more procrastination; what kind of pathetic over-regulation binds us to the Present, in which the living is forced to bribe ?!
It is always a surprise to snag a bump! "The temporary throbbing is tired once I have the ingrained fear in me!"
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 2:07 AM UTC
Oh yes I talk about trying, don't pardon me
Innocence has nothing to fear, this is what hardened me
Just quit man, give up, be the pawn in world chess these thought never cordon me
Rise for you may not reign, but rise for you may be right.. this is the lesson that gardened me
I was in the zone too, I still feel low at times, but I fought and will fight everytime, atleast now I know what my stardom is
Never counted much on anyone, because sometimes when did I got to know what the word phantom means
And trust me I do have dreadful nightmares, but i don't let them warden me
Because what's much bigger and brighter is my dream and the ones I want to live it with, that is what that heartens me
Over expectations, just like over exposure to light, gives you darkened s(K)in
Same people, same situation but different faces, learnt allotropes are not found in carbon only
Was down and low and in pieces, survived, now I am coming thundering for the win
Dream, travel, love, express, experience so the world knows you not just some iron molding
Everyone's at war, some fighting for glory, some voicing their story.. latter is how I unburden me
Miseries in abundance, it's HOPE that forms the basis of my ardent leap.
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 6:41 AM UTC
I woke up today,
I went outside with my camera,
I broke the threshold,
And I entered a yard of memories,
I saw a house,
A house full of rooms,
A house with shingles of thoughts,
A house with rooms of memories,
A house with windows of portraits,
A house of past conversations,
A house that is not just a house,
But an awareness,
A memory,
A time,
A place,
A notion,
There it stood, in the garden,
Why I went outside,
In the white snow,
A solitary leaf,
On a solitary stem,
Green as green can be,
Sticking thru the cordon of snow,
I went to take a picture,
And it didn’t work,
Because I was still in a dream,
Then I heard my mothers voice,
Singing to me, “Steven, come inside.”
I miss my mother,
Her voice,
Her laugh,
Her smile,
Then I realized, as I enter a solace,
That my forever is her forever,
She is the lone bright green leaf,
Amongst the cordon of white snow,
In front of the house,
She is the vivid picture,
A picture that lives in my mind,
A snapshot with no negative,
The only one,
Her consciousness and soul no longer live in my reality,
She lives in my mind, my dreams, and my thoughts,
She will live as long as I do.
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 2:05 AM UTC
as the base, the umbilical
cordon of passion, unitying
two people
the wormth conextion, of honney
and fire, but alone, in flames.
as funeral pire, no rest, no eyes
that as a balsam, help to mitigate
the pain, that burns as loneliness
of the one who
loves in the distance, and see
in strangers eyesthye eyes of
the one not specting him, but loves
him still.
lost, incomplete, vain,
unplugged, hopeless waking
between men,
as body without soul,
as man with no heart, its in the hands
of the one, stabing his back.
is in mondegos hands,that luckily
was not needed, the dark ****
my eyes lost in apparent boringness,
nigth carries my steps, of plane
incompleteness.
assorted on mi mind,
the tantric desire, lays subsole,
as abandonned mine, in the shadow
of it.
the vain desire, scapes between
stertores, of an eternnal flame,
that never stops burning, only her
palorosa balsam, calms the
incomplete fire, tacit, vain, unconnected
while subsole, front of the seas,
they both dream, with the son
of venus, but will never
have me
in a decadent, eternal party,
where they only suffer,
for the love that cannot have
david montecinos.
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 8:29 AM UTC
Once upon a time
There once lived a swine.
He loved to travel.
Unraveling himself in solemn novel.
Along with a apple.
He'd often babble.
With a book won from raffle,
He'd stand bowleg and baffled.
He'd often tattle
Not meaning to ramble.
Standing bowleg and baffled.
His face a smooth red cackle.
The look on his face outdone.
The zipper on his pants came undone.
Far from the favorite son
Those whom seen would make fun.
Of a swine whom despised bacon kind.
Losing peace of mind.
He soon became unkind.
Confined by bacon kind.
He'd straighten a leather belt
Soon a hand seldom dealt.
Soon a bag of rind.
Some kind of stew, cordon bleu.
With much displeasure.
Read the obituary.
And to think its almost February
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 1:00 AM UTC
Le Cordon Bleu sommelier in the know
Discussed wine pairing with patrons aglow
"What does your order include?"
"Roast turducken frankenfood"
"Then I recommend a dry Portmanteau!"
© 2020 Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Jun 19, 2020
Jun 19, 2020 at 1:51 PM UTC
Cordon off what some may will
A date set for ruin,
Ashes stain the pedestal
Embers scatter deep within,
Passions burn white knuckles black
Regardless of who holds them,
But don’t allow the slightest crack...
Lest the pedals scorch the stem
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 8:41 PM UTC
AFTER THE ROW
Built an over large
snowman
on your front doorstep
&
hid behind it.
Rang your doorbell
until you were annoyed
by it.
“Yes...yes! ”
you flung open the door
to be confronted
with a snowman
telling you
he loved you
until slowly
your heart
began
to melt.
****
SNOWBALL WARS!
Use a shiny blue megaphone
to magnify the menace
in my voice.
My snarl barks curt commands
as authentic as
any movie scene I've seen
with a Rod Steiger fat ugly cop
tone.
'We know you're in there! '
'We've got the house surrounded! '
'You don't stand a chance! '
'Give yourself up & come out with
yer hands up! '
And, it's true:
I have ringed the house
with an army of snowmen
(some better trained than others)
others a little shaky
nothing more than half-made rookies.
Their nasty little coal black eyes
trained on the door
a snowball in each of
their twitchy twiggy fingers
more for effect than
actual firepower.
I command
from behind the line.
My little pyramid
of snowballs at the ready
waits eagerly at my right hand
longing to be thrown.
A tense suspenseful
second that seems to last for ever
then suddenly
you emerge
a human blur
dashing from the door
like the last freeze frame from
BUTCH CASSIDY & THE SUNDANCE KID.
My army of snowmen
are caught on the hop
frozen to the spot
not expecting the unexpected.
'What now...boss? '
they scream
losing their nerve.
You are armed
to the teeth
with snowballs
frozen from the fridge
one or two snowmen
have already lost their heads
another has his snowball
shot from his hand
as you break through
the cordon
determined to take me
down.
Get me
(you reckon)
& all the snowmen
will just cave in
turn
& run.
Your lipstick
yells redly
(voice made visible)
I take a snowball
to the heart
fall in almost
slow motion
as you leap upon me
kiss me
...to death!
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 11:13 AM UTC
She’s much more refined than you, you imply.
She cooks cordon bleu, and will not fry.
She’s passed her MA in her house in the country,
and you, my dear, are a single mummy.
I’m doing you one big favour, you know.
In the public gaze with my music studio -
all women want me but can’t have me, so...
it’ll last while it’s fun then it’s off I must go.
Thanks for discretion, you **** girl.
When you do that just there, all my toes curl…
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
Messieurs les beaux esprits dont la prose et les vers
Sont d'un style pompeux et toujours admirable,
Mais que l'on n'entend point, écoutez cette fable,
Et tâchez de devenir clairs.
Un homme qui montrait la lanterne magique
Avait un singe dont les tours
Attiraient chez lui grand concours.
Jacqueau, c'était son nom, sur la corde élastique
Dansait et voltigeait au mieux,
Puis faisait le saut périlleux,
Et puis sur un cordon, sans que rien le soutienne,
Le corps droit, fixe, d'aplomb,
Notre Jacqueau fait tout du long
L'exercice à la prussienne.
Un jour qu'au cabaret son maître était resté
(C'était, je pense, un jour de fête),
Notre singe en liberté
Veut faire un coup de sa tête.
Il s'en va rassembler les divers animaux
Qu'il petit rencontrer dans la ville ;
Chiens, chats, poulets, dindons, pourceaux,
Arrivent bientôt à la file.
Entrez, entrez, messieurs, criait notre Jacqueau,
C'est ici, c'est ici qu'un spectacle nouveau
Vous charmera gratis.
Oui, messieurs, à la porte
On ne prend point d'argent ; je fais tout pour l'honneur.
A ces mots, chaque spectateur
Va se placer, et l'on apporte
La lanterne magique ; on ferme les volets,
Et par un discours fait exprès Jacqueau prépare l'auditoire.
Ce morceau vraiment oratoire
Fit bâiller, mais on applaudit.
Content de son succès, notre singe saisit
Un verre peint qu'il met dans sa lanterne.
Il sait comment on le gouverne,
Et crie, en le poussant : Est-il rien de pareil ?
Messieurs, vous voyez le soleil,
Ses rayons et toute sa gloire.
Voici présentement la lune, et puis l'histoire
D'Adam, d'Ève et des animaux ...
Voyez, messieurs, comme ils sont beaux !
Voyez la naissance du monde ;
Voyez ... Les spectateurs, dans une nuit profonde,
Écarquillaient leurs yeux et ne pouvaient rien voir,
L'appartement, le mur, tout était noir.
Ma foi, disait un chat, de toutes les merveilles
Dont il étourdit nos oreilles,
Le fait est que je ne vois rien.
Ni moi non plus, disait un chien.
Moi, disait un dindon, je vois bien quelque chose
Mais je ne sais pour quelle cause
Je ne distingue pas très bien.
Pendant tous ces discours, le Cicéron moderne
Parlait éloquemment, et ne se lassait point.
Il n'avait oublié qu'un point :
C'était d'éclairer sa lanterne.
588
because she’s still wearing her diamond earrings
and they still bloom
reflections in flour-coated sunsets
in pre-dawned hospital windows at dusk and beyond
they don’t come off
obtrusive and quiet and every spark
bright where her eyes haven’t been
lately she’s not all there so i should be
holding on tightly
because her hands are battlefields
her eyes are blizzards
and she ate half a scoop of strawberry ice cream
just last week it was just the other day
she said my name
because i can see every jolt
her heart now beats
tsunamis that slam her ribcage and there’s no higher ground
because she still sits up in bed head in palms
and asks what day it is like the churches aren’t shut
like her hallways aren’t gathering dust
because when she sleeps she dreams of a lovely ghost
with a shovel and pre-technicolor dirt on his cheeks
and he wants to be with her again
because when she wakes
she wonders before
she remembers
she forgot
because we remember we sit in the living room
we flood our eyes with laughter
and dead lambs and fish and loaves of bread and wooden spoons
and chicken cordon bleu
and i want her to hear and taste and see and smile
again against homemade wine the singing in summer the accordions i never got to hear
because she still asks me what i ate for dinner(though it’s only lunchtime)
and until she can no longer speak--
Sep 22, 2024
Sep 22, 2024 at 11:05 AM UTC
a sleeveless
snook that
shook the
world from
its bar
did then
retort him
as ye
professor traveled
in place
of Trump
where his
Cadillac in
the news
would cordon
worry on
his brow.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 8:45 AM UTC
The world closes in.
It feels like the unwelcome hug
Of a person you cannot trust,
Whose physical presence
Wanes and fades to invisibility
But whose hug remains,
Stifling, suffocating.
They and others
Stand around you, mocking,
Narrowing the circle
As they step towards you,
Haranguing then jostling in unison,
Leaving no route of escape,
Tight in their cordon.
Heaviness falls,
A solid lid to seal the enclosure,
Negating light and
Squeezing out air
Until you crouch and kneel,
Curl like a ball
And throw sideways glances.
It seems never ending.
It seals your confinement,
It steals your will.
The circle disperses
And they leave you huddled.
And you wait for silence
Before unraveling.
Copyright Marc Hawkins 2017
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 5:37 PM UTC