"screes" poems
a metaphor for a metaphor:
a mirrored mirror.
the pulmonary hackers whoop
as engine screes of social-
media roar by in caps
and i am left with my own noise;
i've internalized it now,
real traffic beyond my upstairs office walls,
my mother's fading garden,
my epson printer humming like a tomb
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 3:14 AM UTC
Away she stepped and looked at the mess
And all this while, time stood still
The words an echo, shattered glass
She walked away, as time stood still
Hours past, in a different world
But where she ran, time stood still
As she stopped and turned around she saw
The sun went down, but time stood still
She gathered every shred of courage
All through the night, as time stood still
As a new day dawned and light crept in
She took one step back as time stood still
She set out on the way back wondering
If life had changed while time stood still
She reached a past in screes and shatters
A broken mirror, as time stood still
Unmendable it seemed to be when
She stepped back in and time stood still
Then morning sun lit up the shards
She sat down, still, and time stepped on
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
why is the afternoon my lull
and the nighttime my charge
my pillow my shroud
my dearest near cloud
although my nightlight might ****
my morning time push
I thrive as a ghoul, or
a cunning young fish
I swim through the road
a film on my eyes
every new person I flee
each lake I indulge
I dive from the plants
and skirt up the screes
drink up my value
as it gladly will flee
the noise is my shadow
I wish it would stay
but when I look back
it's already gray
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 2:42 AM UTC
The steps arose,
a base there was
the muddle of screes
For it was a landscape
Vacant,
Of trees
Gingerly I paced
a cliff that laced
a path destined,
Told, I was
For a few sunrises
and sunsets
Firmed to the locus
stood there, I had.
By degrees
the cliff
obsecured my view
the bewilderment I could not rub
Mayhap, myself scrutinized it far deep
I thought.
the cliff,
for unyielding it depicted
percepting apprehensions, of own
promising it portrayed
Afresh, the climb excecuted
Little by little,
embarked the escarpment
it was still,
dormant
so I too, adjourned
It spoke to me
for footsteps,
no longer scraped
"W'rry not, I shall holdeth thee"
and,
reverberations
igniting the specks of fragility
for I queried myself
if this voyage is my to ascend
Oct 30, 2019
Oct 30, 2019 at 12:40 PM UTC