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) - 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
Offline)
Comments1
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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