Poem about how writings seems to come easier to me at night.
#NightDarkNight #Shadow #Tanka #Write #Write
Tiny flashing lights Figures entwine together Closer and closer ‘closer than ever’ they say Beside our computer screens
Howling and wailing Like the vast October winds Delightful to find Many who share the same chord Sing till frogs jump in our throat…
Foggy morning sky Your veil remains untouched by The flags of Autumn How cruel of you to kidnap Such keen keepsakes of your kin
Self-expressional Crooked poster on the wall Self-intentional Will you shatter, will you fall? Who will fix your frame of old?
A sudden rain flux A faintly calling whisper To turn off eyelids Yet I cannot shake my dream For just another hour
To hide in plain sight Something we all yearn for, but Our differences Do not belong in the mud For mud cannot be polished
My White Cloak Part one: Place Entering day by day (1) Into a place to grow and stay Into the foundational walls of old
Once my beating heart Matched steel drum lines to-to-toe Teaching metronomes But now my beat has fallen Into syncopated depths
Why does music speak Without line or threads of time We plug ourselves in Forming an echo cocoon Never wanting to come out
Life’s obligations A daunting sea of turmoil With crest after crest I’ll hide in this briny shell Till the tide forgets my name
Ask me who he is A tall tree and branches keen words drop; leaves shaken I try to collect them all But forget them by the stream
A sudden waking From formless blinking through dre… Please, just one more year! Surprised to glance the moon’s fac… An hour before her phase
Just for a moment To glimpse from dusty pages A single white flash Tenuous seconds follow Until a roaring reply
I guess it’s about that time again time for another pointless relapse Time, like a dusty album record Spinning, around and around on end I want the needle to break or veer…
Such sweet aroma Breathe in the color deeply Exhale precious wafts Crisp Citric spiral peelings, Fill my compost disposal