PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

i am no poet

words

are lost

to me



i have no metaphors

to cage

a love

in time

no hyperboles

to exaggerate

pain

nothing to juxtapose

nothing to explain



i know my paradise     lost

                       was simple stated bliss

                       was years and years of poetry

                       was pages stretching to pluto

                       was honey dipped combs

                       was petals freshly blooming

                       was perfection too sweet to ever hold



i can visit my paradise lost

because i wrote of it

saying don't ever forget this



but the pages are a museum/

my love

a dinosaur

and now

that it

petrifies

i forget

to ache for

it forget

how alive

it was forget

how scared hungry ecstatic hopeful sad

i felt

for it

forget



and ache now for no one

comet blew up the world and 300 years later

everything remains dead

i lay in a charred crater and do not move

stare at the orange sky and wait

for rain



i am no poet

cliche will be my landing,

empty when i begin

a husk with dry and dusty words

spitting out whites in a washing machine

paradise is lost and never found

ashes cycle round and round and round

love is lost

to

me