Thursday, 9 March 2017
Red & Blue
By degrees a heart's revealed,
drawing winter about itself.
I can be cold, it beats,
Decelerate. Turn blue, contract
'til such a time as science
guarantees this bruise made better.
'Til then I'm polar.
Glacial in my spartan chamber,
mere echoes of my cadence
to evidence what was.
But come, little heart,
turn into the sun.
The eye adjusts and Spring
awaits on the wide horizon.
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