Another day awaits

Could this be the end?
The moon is an outline of the last of smothered blooms
and gasps;
whether it is rebirth or removal
remains to be seen—
the seed perhaps lingered for too long in one place.
You see,
it’s urging a ruse out of me.

In a hoarse tone I hear the pleas of yesteryear,
I knew not this morning
when I woke up
that silence would be so heavy—
you see, to me the blues are a form of struggle,
they can lighten or darken the room;
the gut ever twisting; will we forever be stuck in a muted Spring?

Part those curtains,
I dreamed of a city where the crisp wind carried me higher
and higher into the night;
wash away our sins
my thoughts gyrating to a cacophony of questions
growing louder—
maybe dirt isn’t what we make it out to be;
it’s urging a ruse out of me: it’s urging a ruse out of me.

 

 

 

Photo credits: Pinterest

“To write a blues song is to regiment riots and pluck gems from graves.” ~ Etheridge Knight

Day Twenty-Two ~ Poets of April

Skylover Wordlist: Seed 💝

Posted for Play It Again @ Real Toads

Breaking across from us now

Reveal to me the breath of the night sky,
confetti of emotions—
I find myself picking each one and holding delicately
in my palm.
The poetry of your lips
reveal to me the rushed hours, the cloud of buildings
there is an indescribable silence that follows
long after the city pale, dark and cold is illuminated—
don’t tell me
the world at large is collapsing;
take me,
reveal to me the increasing gale of your obstinacy—
I am first light.

 

 

Photo credits: Pinterest

“There is only what you want and what happens. There is only
grabbing on and holding tight in the darkness.” ― Lauren Oliver,
Hana 💝

Posted for Weekly Scribblings @ Poets and Storytellers United