PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Come be by my side,

gaze at the seashore, relax

on the dunes.

Her trembling voice 

steadys as it raises

Into the question.

Can you come see me,

Soon,

Among the branches of Autumn,

High in a mountain,

twistings and turnings.

She steadys her voice and

Trembles inside.

Can you see me when pine winds

blow through decor,

Twinkling and cascading in electrified

lights,

Her voice a faint hollow

and a slight hesitation.

How about now? Crocus

bloom, and the coccoons are 

weaving their magic on

landscapes, damp with dew.

Can you please come and see me?

I'm waiting here still.

Patience

Waiting through other's dreams,

Listening to other's drone, and drone

And drone, but not fly

in the sky

Like drones, and drone like

bees in the yard,

Hovering over landscapes too dry for grass,

luscious grass,

just scrapple grass,

Droning on, not like

Amazon deliveries

In their own lanes,

Just unhappy tales,

Of blah-dy blah

Blah-dy blah blah blah.

Drones.

She for the Italian novel 

in which our heroine has a list of men

she wishes to be gone, somehow.

She can’t remember,

Was it blunt force,

A trauma type of wound?

Or did she let him fall,

Not over the cliff but in the tub.

How undignified but how thrilling,

The push.

She watched her form 

In the mirror,

Hair flying, he never saw it,

But she did. 

Creating blunt force trauma 

To his brain

With a, I don’t know what happened, 

I’d looked away.

Yea at myself in the mirror

Pushing him over.

She sat on the desk,

The list under her butt cheeks.