A Tangle weed Majesty

Philip Daniel Cook

I am a catacomb.

To all the useless things.

The bobs and bells,

a turning style

of haiku.

 

I am a voiceless mass;

that collapsed.

With tongues.

 

A star that was never born.

A beckon of light outstretched.

I'm a story-board never

penciled in.

 

And a common thread pulled

out from space.

 

The planet never born;

a storm never swarmed.

I'm a circle in a square.

 

A space between space.

A tangle-weed majesty.

 

I am a useless weed.

Gathered by the reaper's 

feed.

 

Dancing demons in the dark

of angels; sitting angels in

the light of demons.

A tangle-weed majesty.

 

Broken

 

  • Author: ReflectionShadow (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: July 10th, 2019 17:18
  • Comment from author about the poem: All bunched up; and confused by all of the strings of a harp.
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 13
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Comments +

Comments1

  • Neville

    these words are so very much deserving of one hell of a lot more views and reviews.. another much enjoyed read and true........ Neville



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