"gusting" poems
Saved by the Sunflower
A very strong storm was arriving,
there were large black clouds coming from the east,
strong gusting turbulent winds threatening to snap everything,
severe down pouring of flooding rain,
as if the clouds were crying out in pain,
it did not seem there would be anyway to save the flower garden,
nothing could survive this unannounced exploding of nature,
this seemingly uncontrollable outburst,
something, maybe everything was going to be destroyed,
this day turned in to this night of hell,
the rain, the wind, the flashes of lightning,
this violent death would not be stopped this time,
then a small voice could barely be heard,
at first it was ignored, flicked away like a mosquito,
the voice did not give up though, once again it cried out,
once again it was ignored, brushed aside,
the voice continued gaining strength, it refused to be shut down,
the creator of the storm suddenly took a step back,
looking down to see where this voice was coming from,
it was emanating from this one lone sunflower,
it was the sunflower that had been given the name Perly,
Perly would not, could not be denied as she screamed out,
leave this garden oh evil storm, I will not except the outcome,
the outcome that you predict will never occur, we are fighters,
we will never give in to your senseless urges,
please wake up and hear my plea for sanity,
the storm started to weaken, slowly at first, but continued
gaining momentum loosing it's grip on this act of violence
until finally succumbing to this cry of desperation from
the little sunflower.
Gradually, the wind stopped blowing,
the rain stopped falling,
the sun began peaking thru the clouds.
Perly Sunflower had saved the lives of all the other flowers
in the garden, and the life of gardens caretaker.
A plaque is now erected on this spot proclaiming the
bravery of this little sunflower that would not give in,
would not accept, would not cower away.
The caretaker of the garden professes eternal gratitude
and love for this brave creature of Gods doing.
Thank you Perly sunflower
Gomer LePoet...
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 11:00 PM UTC
Saved by the Sunflower
A very strong storm was arriving,
there were large black clouds coming from the east,
strong gusting turbulent winds threating to snap everything,
severe down poring of flooding rain,
as if the clouds were crying out in pain,
it did not seem there would be anyway to save the flower garden,
nothing could survive this unannounced exploding of nature,
this seemingly uncontrollable outburst,
something, maybe everything was going to be destroyed,
this day turned in to this night of hell,
the rain, the wind, the flashes of lightning,
this violent death would not be stopped this time,
then a small voice could barely be heard,
at first it was ignored, flicked away like a mosquito,
the voice did not give up though, once again it cried out,
once again it was ignored, brushed aside,
the voice continued gaining strength, it refused to be shut down,
the creator of the storm suddenly took a step back,
looking down to see where this voice was coming from,
it was emanating from this one lone sunflower,
it was the sunflower that had been given the name Perly,
Perly would not, could not be denied as she screamed out,
leave this garden oh evil storm, I will not except the outcome,
the outcome that you predict will occur, we are fighters,
we will never give in to your senseless urges,
please wake up and hear my plea for sanity,
the storm started to weaken, slowly at first, but continued
gaining momentum loosing it's grip on this act of violence
until finally secumbing to this cry of desperation from
the little sunflower. Gradually, the wind stopped blowing,
the rain stopped falling, the sun began peaking thru the clouds.
Perly Sunflower had saved the lives of all the other flowers
in the garden, and the life of gardens caretaker.
A plaque is now erected on this spot proclaiming the
bravery of this little sunflower that would not give in,
would not accept, would not cower away.
The caretaker of the garden professes eternal gratitude
and love for this brave creature of Gods doing.
Thank you Perly sunflower
Gomer LePoet..
May 11, 2010
May 11, 2010 at 9:50 PM UTC
"When a person is born it's a blessed time,
Albeit a person is in love it's a splendid era,
When that person perishes it is a bereaved era,
Albeit Love of two people expires it's a cataclysm,
Vestige as we used to sit there on the littoral,
As the dusk of the winds would blow the sand,
The sand pursues into your long black hair,
Visage your dark green eyes and a beauty of a smile,
All times I have enjoyed greatly also suffered greatly,
Times you loved me and alone on the shore,
It is an perpetual power that as my utopia,
Is me ichorous of our love moments together,
Afore us lies the port and a skimming ocean liner,
As we slowly see an alluvion gloom in the darkness,
Legions of souls drudged here in day and night,
Above gusting drifts the rainy constellation of stars,
As we gambol in our fervor of cognizance of love in our
Utopia Ichorous"
By Andrew Guzaldo 08/03/2018 © Posted HP/
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 10:10 PM UTC
Mary Rose, the mighty sailing sea vessel glided majestically across the waves
She had robustly and bravely sailed the briny waves for many a night and day
With the ocean's heaving gusting squalls blowing off proud stern and mast
Sailing victorious and proud - her billowing white sails were cast
The calm, liquid waters of the sea flowed quietly purple for now-
Unaware of the coming storm that would beat furious against her bow
Her alabaster sails whipped violent and furious in the oncoming storm
Impending doom was yelling its cries while the ****** went unwarned
Down below, inside their cabins the ****** peacefully slept
Wrapped in the secure watch that their gallant captain kept
The oceans black, boiling waves beat savage against starboard and port
As Captain Noe standing fearless - at first quake, did not the storm report
The old wooden beams of the Mary Rose began to restlessly moan and creak
While the blackened roaring, rolling waves beat furious against her feet
Her alabaster sails rose proud- beating mighty against wailing squalls and gusts
While deep inside the bow in bunks, the sleeping ****** ******
Suddenly...they heard the captain's distraught voice cry out
When the ****** heard his voice -they heard fear without doubt
“Awake, all of ye’ ”, Captain Noe forcefully roared
“Alive! Awake… all ye’ ****** come quickly up on board”!
The savage spirit of the sea reigned fierce with rage and fear
While the brave captain fought - loyal ****** brought up the rear
They courageously fought together - not silenced by the eye of death
As the sea raged violently against them with its brutal, menacing breath
To save their mighty Mary Rose, they’d dip their very souls in blood
Leaving themselves merciless against this drunken, mighty flood
With plank and bow standing fierce between them and their fate
The raging ocean’s fierce, blackened waves - the sea they could not hate
The morning brought the warming sun which rose broad above the waves
The winds had tamed their violent voice against captain and ****** brave
With unshakable courage and seaman’s wit not once were spirits broke
Each cheered his mate and captain strong as they fought with steady stroke
Their peril fought in days of danger and night filled with pain
Their manly courage did not wane - their fight was not in vain
For all the courageous ****** and their brave Captain Noe
Joined together in hand and spirit to save...their proud Mary Rose
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 6:15 PM UTC
My ***** Lover
Irrationality always wins
Chicago is aspirated beast
Braggart forced laugh
I had a vision but I have no vision
Dreamed I was making out with a woman
Who had long stretchy pink octopus tentacles
Sedulously legato ephemera
Growing from external rim of ******
Sobriquet inimical desiccation
One tentacle wrapped around and tickled
Diurnal nugatory verisimilitude
While other squeezed testicles
What was I talking about, oh yes
Everything got out of hand
Expect unthinkable gusting winds
To huff puff blow house down
Filthy rotten scoundrel but
Started out so sweet
Inchoate caliphate apocryphal
Wish I had her gift
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 11:13 AM UTC
Tonight is a cluster of
Recognitions, remembrances
Mostly reminiscence
Which sift in the breeze
Gusting beneath the temporary
Tarpaulin tent
Backs are slapped
Arms embraced
Smiles predominate
As shiny faces and gleaming foreheads
Illuminated by flashing cameras
Twinkle like fireflies displaying
In a muggy June meadow
Photos pulled from stained
Billfolds move from hand to hand
Displaying glossies of babies, graduations
Weddings and “The big catch”
Relatives, friends and officials
Find their place on folded metal chairs
For a wedding ceremony
Tonight has become a gathering
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 8:46 AM UTC
She is like a dandelion on the edge of a cliff
Next to the sea.
The wind-encouraged rapture brings her to her knees as she’s taken
From the rocks into the deadly blue sea.
(She is stronger than she thinks,
I know, that’s why she left me.)
Before the endpoint, the gusting breeze
Meets its end,
So the dandelion plummets into the sandy beach instead.
(No matter what brings her down, she shall always stand up.
It’s the way she is; the dandelion is tough.)
So comfortable now, her stem is stuck
In this thick warm surface,
The tide seems to be interested in this dandelion’s purpose.
(I tried to **** her into me with my love.
She didn’t give me a chance because
I wasn’t enough.)
The tide erupts upon the scene within the lively flower’s green,
And yanks it from the sand to bring her colors to the sea.
(He stole her from me,
she accepted his hand
There was no chance for me)
To the ocean, the flower seemed different from the others;
The dandelion seemed to be tougher.
She has always been strong, my little dandelion,
Even from day one,
(But like I said, I wasn’t good enough)
Nothing could destroy her pride, nothing could be done.
(She told me nothing of her
feelings and left my concerns in the dark)
She brought her roots down within the oceans depths,
And ****** the sea dry until there was nothing left.
And then came the rain.
(She left the door open on the way out,
I was so shattered,
I couldn’t even cry.)
Jun 26, 2010
Jun 26, 2010 at 8:23 PM UTC
I stared catatonic nonstop and could not pull my eyes away or scream
except for the great internal scream and I felt like death was upon me, or nearly so.
And my body asleep but my mind twisted and my eyes awake wide-open
and no dream this was but real things and then my thoughts put outward
and all these things terrible formed into death-shadows
and flowed down through the fabrics above my head.
Flesh undulating in darkness that creeped
and I found ten seconds of courage to sit up and stare
at the wall as the rippling fabric became a thousand black snakes
crawling down from the ceiling and out from my dreamcatcher
that did nothing at all but release these terrors from the wall.
And I thought it was sordid wind that came in gusting through my window that made my sheets become like a mechanical sea
but it was not so, and these vile snakes poured out like *****
from some gaping maw above and went underneath my bed
and all through the floor to the four corners of my room
and then came together again above on the center of my ceiling
and murmured death-talk and horror-faces from the walls and ceiling
and even closing my eyes would bring nothing but flashes
of demonic children and things with no jaws or eyes
hollowed out and terrible ghosts I procured and almost choked out laughter because this was it and I've finally gone and gone mad
There was a man at my closed door wearing my jacket that hung on a hook
and his face was the face of a skull that hung above my door
and from the corner of my eye the man with the door on his back with the coat still attached walked with silent step toward my bed, and I turned to look at this figure
and instead of snapping back against the wall like all nightly visions should;
he stood there, and as I stared at him I saw slow moving black legs receding against the wall
but the horrors of his feet were ten thousand worm bodies and black leathery fingers of bats and crawling things
and my carpet floor was no longer static but a creeping madness,
and my body trembled as if it were being continuously dropped
from heights a hundred times over and great odious black
pillars and monoliths slid steadily up the corners of my room with arms
that then burst out to the middle into nothing but a smiling cheshire grin
and I could not move anymore and just stared until my mind went numb
and like the first sunlight upon the last fog before dawn, I awoke.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
SANDMAN
Can you see them?-lookin' for me to be them,
lookin' for my warmth to breath life to them,
the hollow men,yes men,fallow men,come follow men,
no heart no mind-mindsick and eyeblind,
sheep talkin' like wolves that I find,
most despicable-Dis-gusting unpredictable,
following the wind as it blows on their wick they're all
candles in the strong wind gutterin',
snipes from a distance yeah they're all utterin'
Great threats from great hollow chests,
that up close-don't stand inspection,
empty vessels-makin great noise,
hard men behind keyboards hands -poised,
with the poisoned pen ready to dip in the deep well,
of hatred they bring from deep hell's,
inside,a void,avoid if you can please employ-
aversion tactics needed,don't need it,
vampyres that need pyres,yellow they bleed it
Yellow right down to the backbone believe it...
CHORUS
*the hollow men,yes men,fallow men,come follow men,
Yes men Hollow men come follow men
Yes Men-Shallow men come follow men, the hollow men,
The hollow men,yes men,fallow men,come follow men,
Yes men Fallow men come follow men
Yes Men-Shallow men come follow then
while I tell you bout the Hollow men*
JAY
Yeah, **** right I can see them.
Trolls in holes. I'm willin' to bleed 'em.
Society's detritis,
..delighted by the slightest sign of weakness.
Bleakness of their lives underlined by the lies they employ..
.. in their contrived..
..cyber sphere.
Scavengin' on carrion.
Peckin' at the carcass. Behind the veil of anonymity.
Sit in darkness as they hammer out calamity.
No nobility or amity. Cyber-highway poison.
I got the remedy.
Hollow husks skulk and lust..
..for coat-tails to ride on. Soon turn to dust.
Rusting hulks their disgusting bulk decaying on the shore.
Soon to be forgotten.
The Yes Men, the Hollow Men, the fallow men.
The everything is borrowed men.
The no tomorrow men.
The follow slowly to the gallows men.
*The Hollow Men, Yes men, fallow men, come follow men.
Yes men, shallow men, come follow men.
Yes men, Hollow Men.
Never follow them. The Hollow Men.
The Hollow Men, Yes men, fallow men, come follow men.
Yes men, shallow men, deal in sorrow men.
Yes men. Don't ever follow them.
A fool strolls to the gallows man.*
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 2:15 PM UTC
I am haunted with the breeze that was you...
Barely noticeable, a memory long gone, a faint whisper in the air.
Without any warning it becomes gusting with a voracious rage, cloaking my very being with rapacious eagerness, consuming me in whole.
I crumble to the floor like a tear-stained rag doll, destroyed by my unwillingness to admit, I miss you.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
What a wonder, it must be, just to fly.
Henry had thought, not so long ago,
As birds, looped, swooped and soared,
Flocks of starlings, offering a show.
Jen and Olly, were Henry’s best friends,
Three ghostly bunnies with nothing to do,
Then Olly twitched his wispy whiskers,
Until large mushrooms suddenly grew.
Mushrooms so nice, they sat upon them,
And despite what they had been taught,
It seemed, within this, imagination world,
Creation occurred, with a single thought.
Jen giggled, wiggled, her delicate nose,
And three pink kites appeared overhead,
Swooping and soaring, just like starlings,
But held from a silken, gossamer, thread.
Henry’s turn, so smiling at his friends,
He performed a funny ‘bunny-like’ hop,
Creating a bracing, fresh, gusting breeze,
Making their ears go, all-a-flippity-flop.
On mushroom seats, ghostly bunnies sat,
Their minds twirling with kites, so high,
Henry recalled thinking, not so long ago,
What a wonder, it must be, just to fly.
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
He was love’s fool
A drop of rain
In a downpour of seasonal shame
A farthing in the fountain
Spent on wishes
Glistening in the fenlands
Of unreplenished riches
A plea, among the rustling
In a vast forest of variegated leaves
Sorrow among garrulous winds gusting
A path through
His wooded pathos
Blazed with love and lusting
Then a tear finds wing
On a falling leaf
Snapped from the limbs
by currents of heat
rockabye'd into halcyon
so misery and his companion
Forge a new coin
Thrown and flipping along an arc
A pinwheel casting solar sparks
Purling hope in a tumbling fall
promises anything can happen
To anyone
Anytime
at all
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
Walk with me,
Through the night.
Such blissful glimmering,
Promise above.
My hand in yours,
Yours in mine.
Lovers fated,
With promised shine.
That deepening dark,
Hiding us true.
Naked we were-
Invisible to all.
All that is known.
My hand in yours,
Yours in mine.
Lovers fated,
With promised shine.
Light pooled from above,
The creek reflecting sky.
Bathe us in innocence.
Arise as newborns.
Cry out: “Always Onward!”
My hand in yours,
Yours in mine.
Lovers fated,
With promised shine.
“Always Onward!” indeed-
Through thicket and tree.
Speak not of the path,
Traveled before.
Speak not of the path,
That lay ahead-
Only travel.
My hand in yours,
Yours in mine.
Lovers fated,
With promised shine.
We must not stay-
There is field to traverse,
Mountains to conquer.
Be light on your feet,
Radiant star.
My hand in yours,
Yours in mine.
Lovers fated,
With promised shine.
Shadows sure to haunt-
Born from timber,
From moon.
Fear not nature’s ruse-
We are roaring animals!
“Always Onward!”
My hand in yours,
Yours in mine.
Lovers fated,
With promised shine.
Moss at foot and leafs of past,
Share with us-
Your everything.
Energy of all things-
Gone and to come.
My hand in yours,
Yours in mine.
Lovers fated,
With promised shine.
Cliff top high, oh release us.
Let us know the world,
As does the wind-
Touching everything.
My hand in yours,
Yours in mine.
Lovers fated,
With promised shine.
Above it all we soar,
Eagles we are-
Royalty of the sky.
What Gaze from below-
What gaze at majesty.
Dawn would show our feathers,
But in the night-
We are but gusting wings.
My hand in yours,
Yours in mine.
Lovers fated,
With promised shine.
Alas! The horizon!
Water and sky meet,
But the journey yet to end.
Procreated by thunderous roars-
We animals HOWL!
“Always Onward!”
“Always Onward!”
“Always Onward!”
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 5:20 AM UTC
My soul calls to the crashing waves,
Let me drift in you like withered wood,
Let me sleep in the glistening blue,
To wake up lost on foreign land,
To be free with you again.
My heart sings to the wild wind,
Carry me away with the gusting sand,
Carry me further and further away,
Lay me in the desert sun to feel,
To be free with you again.
My mind cries to these stone walls,
Crash down and let me go,
Crash around, fall to the ground
Let me see the beauty beyond your chains,
Let me be free by myself once again.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 9:53 PM UTC
*You remind me of the earth,
like deep burnt umber woodlands
mid downpours' fresh aroma
& spring's foliage lushly reborn,
twinkling explosive pinpoints
grazing beyond dark ether,
sparkles dappling 'pon depths
of eternal seascapes's nature,
amidst breath of relentless airy winds
gusting above her majesty's hazes
beyond purple mountain's apex
and streams of meadows' wildflowers in
deftly painted horizons after moonbows,
vivid consciousness' uttermost reminisce
of all things recollected in the long ago
essence of your memories' presence*
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
Stark dark black limbs
Breast eyes beak wings
Abysmal feathered
Garments; a messenger.
Mal to prefix, as well,
Remnants from the abyss.
Not malicious, for delicious
Is a delight dragged
Out of any carrion.
Not carried because
They carry enough
Is too much for
These observers of us.
Screeching their squawks.
Perched on boughs for talks.
Of malign imminence.
To coalesce friendly fragments.
Found at any crossing's discourse.
Gusting about an eerie force.
Beacons upon who to bereave.
Portent displacing fallen leaves.
So we re-member
Our piece by piece plummet
Into that omnipotent
Stark dark descent.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 7:08 PM UTC
The end is near
I feel it
It slaps me in the face with its
Rawness
I hear whispers gusting into my ears
screaming
telling me how near the end is
"The end is near!"
The whisper in the wind tell me
as if it is screaming
but oh so silent
nobody else can even hear
The sun and clouds drape over me
wrapping themselves around me
Holding my body closely
Telling me
"The end is near!"
I walk and walk and walk
Questioning myself the whole time
When Oh When
Will the end be here?
I am tiered
Tiered of not knowing
Tired of all the signs
Tired of everything screaming out to me
"The end is near!"
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 2:16 PM UTC
The winds howl through the valley
galloping across the fields
gusting into town
knocking down garbage cans
rattling grain silos
shoving highway traffic
stealing people’s hats
blasting tractors
slapping around limbs and branches
knocking live powerlines to the cold winter ground
interrogating clattering palm trees
threatening creaking, aged oaks
They’re just outside the door, now
whispering, moaning, vehement, loud.
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 11:55 AM UTC
forgotten are
those bright
autumnal colours
of the freshly fallen
no longer able
to offer
a crisp rustling
with each step
a whisper that
invites child
and adult alike
to kick
and shuffle
playfully
ignoring the bite
of frost
unwelcomed
by noses
and fingertips
those downbeat leaves
lately of such
seasonal delight
have been rejected
by bough
and branch
drifting meekly
without protest
or wrenched
from arboreal familiarity
by gusting wind
or gloved hand
turned to mulch
by constant downpours
muddily trodden upon
without second thought
clinging to any
passing boot
trainer or shoe
only to be scraped
and scuffed
on pavement
or curb
stomped in a puddle
left behind
Nov 22, 2022
Nov 22, 2022 at 7:37 AM UTC
The timpani crash of thunder
The gentle side drum beat of autumn rain
While violin and cello echo the gusting wind
The Nightingale sweet sound of the piccolo echoes in the dusk
Early morn and the French horn mimics the pheasants call
And the well played flute could be the blackbird on the wall
But this can't be
Because man can never truly compose natures music
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
like stars, her eyes following the path,
time moulded into its caves
the sky with its sapphire-mooned dome,
the rustling trees where the fast
wind swore and shook each crooked branch
here beyond the houses and the well-kept lawns,
the low walls and scrolled iron gates
the sounds of the night a bat’s wing,
the sagging wind gusting, smoke
peppering the sky from chimneys in a thin flame
or the jagged ice of a jaded moon
where the horses in the woodland
shook their manes, grey-eyed like
athene and her owl, untired as
a fog-spun sea, relentless and alive,
the trees and their ghosts around her
she held her breath, bare feet weaving
along the sandy track, dress flowing,
her arms covered in bracelets,
her lips, coral-pink, brushed in peppermint,
free to dream at last , eyes swallowing
the dark lines of the trees, hanging the dusk
from her eye lids, singing of the sweetness
of the night and its ragged clouds,
the raw dust of the moon.
her dreams were blue pools, the night
with its midnight leaves, her
heart longed to be free, to wander
through the trees as wild as the
horses with their stone-like manes
and sweeping metal hooves, brushed
with the inks of the sky in the shadowy
woods where everything was still but
not still, where the moonlight carved
its name in the woken tree.
Aug 31, 2018
Aug 31, 2018 at 12:24 PM UTC
Quiet now children
Trailing your ****** rags
The lights must go out
Back to your cells
Back into your minds
Each of you
Retreat into your personal hell and nirvana
Toss and turn
quietly now...
Burn - be reborn
in remembrance of the torture and the pain
We can all be the village
Carry her bones through the streets
Raise her as our own
As though she is alive
The wind whistles into her skin
Gusting through her body
She is not alive
Her muscles mechanically quiver
Trying to bring warmth to the congealed veins
But if she gave up so long ago
Her heart refusing to pump again
Why shouldn't her body sleep too?
Rest my child
Hush, hush.
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
*awakening autumn air
absorbed with thrown caution
a penchant for yawning leaves
an affinity for desiccated hearts
stirring lakeside willows
whisking emotions away
wafting feminine fragrance
in walking women's wakes
moving to its own designs
gusting in pursuit of change
swirling clouds of romantic disarray
into dizzying vortexes of possibility
expanding the bellows of intimacy
lovesmith for glowing molten souls
passionately ignited, vulnerably cooled
forging bonds, tempering existence*
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 12:49 PM UTC
Bones in the rye field they sang, brittle stems of iron spreading leaves of
rust
A hidden look in watery eyes, secret sickness, ripping my guts
asunder
That space between midnight and morning when the world has been reduced
to monotone
In the blue-gray lucidity we sit, absorbed in cigarettes and gusting
wind
A few notes of Satie and I’m sitting in that blue room again, bamboo out the
window
Your voice like a finger running up my spine, singing to me, drowned out by
spring showers
Clay pots on the shelves, wilted sunflowers on the floor, grass pushing its way
through the floorboards
I step into falling rain, dream of sleep, dream of nothing, the blankness between
wakefulness
Hands carrying the scars of a thousand days, much like the day before, unconscious of
its passing
In tired two syllable words we exchange our hearts
In smiling kisses we pass each other breath, fresh like fertile ground split by
rugged plow
Black and white photographs in odd fitting drawers with cheap brass
handles
A pocket watch carried by many men before me, strewn upon stained counters
and newspaper clippings
I will these tired eyes to come to their senses, absorbed in a single word in a single
line
Losing their focus for minutes at a time, the sensation of drifting, the feeling of
fading
Like watercolor or lines in well-trod earth, shuffled into meaningless
harmonics
I still miss the sound of your violin, though you thought no one listened through
that ***** window
Scraps of Scriabin and Brahms, your symphonies saved me many a night
Such frail hands and white scalp, but you did not shake when bow met
fingers
Those nights of cheap Merlot, secretly stealing a moment of calm from your
skilled hands
The records never quite rivaled those nights, my unknown
friend
Jun 22, 2012
Jun 22, 2012 at 8:25 PM UTC