The Blue Sky

It was a blue sky that on that day I spied

not a cloud above the skyline in sight,

no matter how hard I may have tried,

not revealed even a single streak of white.


Across the horizon only blue and light

like the jagged dream of an empty night.

Upon us bore, foolishly dreaded my mind,

in the form of lifeless sky- the end of mankind.


Borne on silent wind swayed a branch

and I soon awoken from the trance

thought to myself about the perfect trait

of that background of the trees’ portrait.

Oppressive Airs

Metallic fumes

manufactured and cast into the skies

carried by falling winds

are drawn deep with ever inescapable breath

weighing down limbs,

slowing blood,

drawing man down into waking slumber

half closed eyes and closed minds.