Seven seconds to think of an "s" lexis.
Subjective success played on a silver screen.
Patted down, but passive, why do I respond silently in solace?
Pouring on my internal scream.
Then flurries the night's deaf sounds. Left to you and you to your mind. Black thoughts with so much depth, feelings of worthlessness sweep.
I want to be like Mr. Hughs or Mrs Plath, want to publish my sepia towers of trees for all eyes to see.
My window lies open of course,
though it remains ajar. They come and go, from near and afar.
Why did I name myself Mercury when my mini me is verbally scarce?
To write is to strive! That is why, do you see?
I shall leave my mark in gold, look down upon the silver stones. I will dress it with glitter, bathe it in platinum liquid be a legacy knitter.
All in good time.
Becoming sublime.
The lemons, the lime.
Morphed to sour lemonade that rhyme.
At last I sit on a hammock under a willow tree, listening to the subtle melodies of the breeze and the wind chime.
Satisfied at last, to not act upon your dream is but a crime.
I hope.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry By Eclipse (Poetry Book One)
PoetryThis book is a compilation of a random selection of poetry that are all written, made-up and conjured by me. Some, I just wrote for fun and enjoyment, and others are based off of personal experiences with my actual life. Most of them however begin w...
