they say
don't bite the hand
that feeds you.
but my lily tongue
has left me
hungering,
my lungs have left me
for oxygen,
sweeter
than i can give them.
hurt hybrid
feels like she might fall
with hands tied,
might you trip
on my light lily tongue --
might my lungs hold you
in their hollow breaths,
my eyes search
but hollow sclera
could never know light --
dilate like
pupils, though they never see
(i can see that now.)
shattering lenses
on white skies.
the day went bad,
tinted in shades of violet
on my palate --
heavy like slumber
i sought shades of blue
in my sleep, not a blue like yours
but dark as the night is;
blue like the hour before dawn,
i seek, darkest in deepest sleep
-- blue of my dreams --
my eyes grow green
in the morning light, mellowing
in the golden sunshine.
my mind would wander far
in dreams, i would give her
stories in which to play;
let her return to deep youth
where she can run wild,
singing, like the stream does
relentlessly, washing away
all the dirt of today.
i peel back the clouds,
grey, as they enclose
my thoughts turn inwards.
i wish to be a child again,
a little princess in a garden
where statues be her guardians
watching over like stars
that she wishes on,
they would wink to let her know
they heard. i see:
panpipes, (don't lock me out,)
garden of eden green
a white face in muddy waters.
bells toll, pealing in a faraway land.
(17th February 2015)
YOU ARE READING
reflections in watered-down glass
Poetry"I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet, but upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken." -- Lana Del Rey, Ride (...
