do not slip awayA Poem by Scott Lee
do not slip away swift voice
made of river
tell me how night feels 5 minutes after it rains
Why do all these trees
They leap with Flame
Night cleaned by Heaven, smell of grass like showered children
Small black bag slung over my shoulder
small treasures carried forever
divine words bleed in longing to be heard
everyone cracked
Rumi touched my heart and
(a sea with no shore)
restless as War....
I walk on noticing green horn high school kids screaming and carrying on
hope like honey dripping profusely from their eyes
I pray it does not get eaten
High heels click in your dreams down a sidewalk by a woman you cannot see
imagination burns and stirs teeth chattering winds carry rainbow crunched leaves
down November Oblivion.
Friends keep calling wanting me to booze up
I just want to write but can't find trapped words to set the caged beast free.
Keep clawing at rocky ground
gaze through walls for anything to spark, ignore the phone calls
dig through Dictionary.....
There's a secret nomad wandering my heart out of sync with the world
I need time to set you free his dirty black face mud on skin
his indifferent, nitroglycerin stare slaps me harder than a tree falling on my head, (I know it happened the other day while working)
his silent walk soft as shadows crossing lawns
his strong voice trying to break through static I put my ear to the ground
I swallow gravel and sandstone my shovel blade has been through so much wear and tear it's missing pieces of metal along the arc
do not slip away
she winked at me from heaven
I touched abandonment it felt like a lone wet leaf ripped from tree that wanted to go back
I try to forget her lovely curves by thrashing in bed can't sleep a wink
Fall leaves like an art puzzle left open for interpretation litter every street.
restless nomad wandering my heart
do not slip away do not slip away
O' swift voice
made of river always in flow
tell me how night feels 5 minutes after it rains before you walk home alone? © 2013 Scott Lee |
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1 Review Added on November 16, 2013 Last Updated on November 16, 2013 AuthorScott LeeAshland, ORAboutIf now and then we encounter pages that explode, pages that wound, sears, tears, groans, and curses, know they came from a man with his back up, a man whose only defenses left are his words, and his w.. more..Writing
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