A cat splays,
Plays, and sunbathes
Teasing the minutes before the rain.
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Category: Poem
April Rain
A fruit like monsoon
Drizzles, scent; trees, seeds; breeze, skin
Washed with early rains.
Early Rains
My shadow the only shade;
I run home to open windows.
A crow laughs over seven lanes
And flies seven streets,
A hand through my hair!- it’s just breeze.
The airs cool when the lane dips,
And soft rain drips glass buttons.
Eating through memory
Heavy from his feast
Through 3 years of letters-
Swaying silverfish.
Limerick
A man who lives far from town
Writes problems that make people frown
From them, you’d deduce
That a wee baby moose
Was really just Zeus.
Firelight
With silence
The crack on the wall
Grows deeper
The log shifts
While with fire
It teems with art
Meaning in the dark
Breaking the path
In walks a torchlight
Wear the weather
I like the way you wear the weather
Raining down the intersection
Between want and wonder.
If I killed all the clocks could I keep you?
Who would have thought, such long and lonely roads
Between your eyes and skull.
Path
Rainstorm
My footprints fade
Into the ones before.
Winding roads
The long road
To enlightenment.
Wistful
You’ve got a heart
Of broken glass-
It beats,
To break.
Metaphysical dark
Shadows aren’t flat at all. The part you see on the ground is just their skin. There’s cerebral depth in their steps and stillness. Careful now, nothing worse than when you aren’t afraid any longer, for the night becomes a person to you; it’s not sunlight that brings love.
Simply put there’s nothing worse than having to stop when you to try to get a hold of your higher self, while chasing things you should be running away from, only to have your eyes close on you. You should get dressed, we’re going nowhere and the stars are always out.
