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Literature Text
A pocket watch
enclosed snugly within the breast--
life ticking away,
measuring frying pan mornings,
when children pluck fire flowers
meandering through dust novels.
Red melts into barren fields
smothering concealed root
widowed in smoke
and desperate
for arms to pour into;
recoiling from those
whistling flame flowers
crying to the world,
"Don't wait in the blood sunrise--
your clockwork isn't meant to shatter here."
enclosed snugly within the breast--
life ticking away,
measuring frying pan mornings,
when children pluck fire flowers
meandering through dust novels.
Red melts into barren fields
smothering concealed root
widowed in smoke
and desperate
for arms to pour into;
recoiling from those
whistling flame flowers
crying to the world,
"Don't wait in the blood sunrise--
your clockwork isn't meant to shatter here."
12-2-08
I was introducing an exercise in poetic composition to a friend and pupil of mine and was given the prompt of "war".
I was introducing an exercise in poetic composition to a friend and pupil of mine and was given the prompt of "war".
© 2008 - 2024 Gia-Seren
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