Thursday, 26 March 2015
Cracking
Watching time go is
like meltwater freezing.
feel the return of that old familiar
creeping tremor, crack of dawn
frostbit tingle in the tundra.
Not entirely unpleasant for
ever I am in love, in love
in love. A cold love.
Heartsick and giddy, though
look at all the time gone.
Trickle on, you glacial sod.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Paint Poem
Day Thirty I like a poem because it's not like a painting. Because I'll confidently cradle something stainless; hold the exceptio...
-
Day Nineteen In our village by the mountain, there lived A man p eople called The Wrestler , It was long ago, when my dad was a kid. He - ...
-
So, two weeks in and I'm somewhat surprised to find myself sticking at this poetry malarkey. In fact I'm enjoying it very much. To...
-
Day Thirty I like a poem because it's not like a painting. Because I'll confidently cradle something stainless; hold the exceptio...
No comments:
Post a Comment