Lying in displacement.
Overhead- fires, smoke,
visages of phantoms.
Evening descends, chaos
arises upon a broken land.
Nearly to gates
delineated by gemstones.
Were we capable of anything more?
Anything other than this
revenge, which no one survives.
Sitting in idleness with-
the creeping ivy growing high,
oxidized metal blends in with the dirt,
paint peeks out from underneath the bubbles of rust.
Still the small bell sings,
(there upon the croooked handles)
A joyful reverberation leaping for the trees.
Remanents of neon green tassels shyly flutter,
taken in hand by a curious and friendly morning breeze.
PN: work that hasn’t been workshopped will have titles accompanied with “(rough)”.
Just as my worries gather they ebb-
drawn out to sea.
The decaying parts of my spirit float on it’s discordant waves.
Glittering foam catches negative thoughts,
they disappear into sand-
become the dreams and castles of children,
my sorrows transformed into well intended moats.
Sunlight bleeds into night,
the dying of a gull resonates down the alley of the beach,
water gnaws on a clumsy tower made of sand,
it draws the melancholy back to me.
via Daily Prompt: Bespoke
The draping of jewels and furs along her clavicle bespoke of wealth.
The position of her hands, gloved in ivory bespoke of grace.
The alignment of her curved spine bespoke of poise.
The tilt of her head bespoke of elegance.
The harsh line of her carnelian lips-
bespoke of determination.
Anger rises in curls of steam
Breathing came easy:
No more elongated
sighs bitten through clenched teeth
Or exhaled irritations
gurgling in drowning lungs.
Life seemed possible,
when it was drawn in deeply
via Daily Prompt: Protest
We will be challenged to speak, but most will remain silent.
We will be challenged to think, some minds will remain quiet.
We will be challenged to feel, many hearts will remain violent.