PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

last night, I slept in the wet forsythia
more mellow than yellow
more swampy than green

I awoke independently before morning

and felt every blow of swift April air

here there are marginal words and meanings
they remind me, I am blessed
they remind me, I am undressed

those muddy promises, they have a stream of their own
a batch of unstrung inscriptions left alone

messages rushing to the sea variably flowing in a slurry

piths that make the waters viscous
they seem as if stashed away in a whorl
spinning while hard driven rains continue to fall
all the while the water rises and gains on scrub pines

the winds send me searching by the bay
seeking out love this dark and stormy day
where whitecaps shuttle their salty spray

as waves of words in my penning wash over me
cresting and crashing they roll to shore with a flurry

here my inner child flies off with flocks of seagull
exposed to elevations in our seaward formations
we dip and then rise within cumulative gale
we follow the push and the pull of the wind
through darkened sky and clouds of gray 

with another convert to my Atlantic

in this living I am forgiven

my black-eyed lover with your feathered display

so sweet, the hush your wings
so savage, the April storm amongst other things