As timeless screams highjack the prying night
Transparent hearts are barrelled to the shore.
Eternal songs appeal in to your name
The vacuum omens that know no remorse.
Vertigo amasses stronger and stronger
As the spinning wheel proceeds with blind eyes
Your hands are tied to the rudder
Your feet are nailed to the keel
A cunning shudder pass your spine
As hurling blades harass your cheek
The smallest movement could be fatal
The slightest sound your demise
Oh mightiest might, the stools are broken
The stairs are bleak and smashed beneath
The road is deadlock with no option
The path is lost in sudden cliff
But check around there is no blasting
The bonds are ghosts within a mist
The waves storm upon the surface
within, the sea, is still appeased
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His Haibun
He does not like poetry; I write it anyway and do not tell him. It's true his face is not a poet's face. It is round and open, youthful; too apt to be compared to the sun. His nose is neat. It is impossible to imagine him smoking a cigarette, terse, full of cheekbones and tension. His warmth burns my fingertips. I am here for his fascinating body, the haphazard freckles I touch one by one; he is here for my eyes, just my eyes. A sunbeam sneaks through the curtains and pierces us both, sizzling the spices of his skin. I inhale and wrap myself in him. He kisses my eyes.
By TheSpinstress5 days ago in Poets
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