Leafy Bones

Tuesday, 6 December 2011

Dear Quiet thing

Dear Quiet thing
your slumber is unblushed.

lithe and forbidden
my desires tousle my spines,
dear coffee, dear shower, dear bed
you're not quite as divine.

Breathe catches my tongue
sober the sombre daylight,
with guilty mane without much to tell.

Dear Quiet thing
your slumber is unblushed,
lace snapped and gnarled
I am heaving mockery
and dust on your little soul.

Our forgetful ballet.

Oh Quiet thing,
oh my quiet things.

Cool as a cucumber

If I am,
I am at all,
I am bound.

Alphabetically diced
musically ambitious my paint drips to meet
your shadow.

I am mesmerising
enticing, exciting, different
and done.

Microwave- ding!
Not quite the taste of the slow,
but I am here and now and wonderful whilst I last!
But I am always, always, always on the go.

Quietly I sink
to my unforgotten world,
because If I am,
I am at all,
it is I who remembers myself;
the folly, the flippant, the brawl.

Waltzing the void

I am being the coward I loathed,
shady under my clothed
the beds re-made day to day,
scratching as old leaves fall;
my body is always in autumn.

Certainty heavy,
I already miss,
I simply do not know what to do.

But I know I cannot commit to problems
and I know I cannot commit to solutions.
I am an allusion amidst the mirror,
but the host
is unrecognisable.

This is my post for the Gooseberry Garden and DVerse Poets, I'm afraid it's miscellaneous really, but here it is anyhow. Thank you for reading :) x

The nothing

I've been sent here to discover nothing is left to be discovered but that notion alone.
And now that its done,
should I simply become
no- one?