Beneath Her Catastrophic Blues
She's a drunken nymph who spent her days finding fields where she can drown in unending dreams of flowers and metaphors.
She's falling off,
but forged against the raging tides that churned the sea of wisdom.
Then, she saw an oak on fire where words became birds of a mirror-world.
Her fellas followed under a buckling moon, a pack of tricks to play between her hidden ghosts. But her vestiges blew by the wind, and they went astray.
Now, she's lurking beneath her catastrophic blues as she already masters their dirty play.
YOU ARE READING
Under The Casket Of Hatred And Oppression
PoetryThese short poems ideas flow from my emotional self. They arrive the same way as dreams do. So always I begin with a head empty of words and let my feelings go flow. Read at your own Discretion
