There was a line in the final episode of "The Swarm" which is the first line of this sonnet, and made me immediately think of my wonderful Muse.
By Mike Singleton đź’ś Mikeydred 2 years ago in Poets
It's not always me that speaks, I'm often just a borrowed word. My conversation carries streaks; echoes of the overheard.
By Tim Grace2 years ago in Poets
Water conforms to the vessel Contracted It expands to fill every crevice It opens itself to the vessel Over time They wear into each other
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Sometimes you have to leave right away So the house gets left in disarray You do you’re best to repair it on the fly As you try to keep the wings level
This table is my point of view; provides a horizontal plane. It's the visual avenue to the peculiar and mundane. . It's from where I watch the lives we live
All but another day that's come again, a duplicate, a musical reprise. An awakening that would task this pen with a think-well task - one of great surprise.
You have been commodified, digitised, of sorts; cleverly identified as a string of ones and naughts. . You have been commercialised,
We’d rather enjoy our prison of pain Than risk the freedom of love Because we know what the cell feels like Rather than the warmth of their arms
Nature finds its habitat, where best it finds a fit, accommodates to this and that, so together things are knit: . to the ever changing circumstance;
I’m far more messed up Than I thought Forever bled Of any “normal” thought Against them all I have fought I don’t know what you want
Hemorrhaging hypocrisy Of one way conversations You’re judging me When all I see is beauty How are you supposed to see me
Walked by a window, saw myself in that. Indiana Jones takes a morning stroll. Arranged to meet my wife, I have her hat. There's time to fill - the poet's on patrol.
