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a decoupage of lines glued together
a decoupage of lines glued together
collectively adhering like damp leaves
in a fall rain
leaving words left to hang
like the lingering smoke of a cheap cigar
can you hear Me
Imagine a vivid snow capped plateau
with a lemon yellow sun that glows serenely
reflecting like a prism off the ice cycles
feel the cold wind as it blows
call it home
there are people in my life,
that don't really know who I am.
In this darkness though
there is one who knows
the sorrow of the damned
understands the black demon
and rage inside of me.
my thoughts expressed
left for them to misconstrue
and muddle the meaning
we call it poetry
~ D Donner ~
Its been nearly 2 years and
Its been nearly 2 years and still miss you like crazy! Xx hugss
Don't let any one shake your dream stars from your eyes, lest your soul Come away with them! -SS
"Well, it's love, but not as we know it."
Ravings...
We miss your words, Daniel. Merry Christmas where ever you are.
© Ground
"We call it poetry"
Like a found poem,
torn and turned brown
as age declared ownership,
we are rediscovered
and thought of as poetic
gods who walked among
humans disguised
as writers.
.
allets
02-23-18
356p
Rest warrior troubadour ~S~
09-3-20