Moments dribble down the back of my neck
like sweat.
Time is in enfolded fragments
not measured by a clock.
Hearts stop;
reassured by
temptation’s wandering, blind eye.
Bleeding up out
of the lead ground;
drops pool
then amass to
old, running rivulets;
furrows
on skin
& an eternity
to drink it in,
seeping from ancient wounds.
Seconds as holes
you can slide down into.
A lake;
black, stark,
infinitely deep, dark;
beats like a heart,
& a soft shore
made of treacherous spongy sand;
smooth, alluring,
but don’t step in;
that toe
will be swallowed up whole,
but where is it you need to go?
-
Author:
rebmasters (
Offline) - Published: September 27th, 2021 04:36
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
- User favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek.
Offline)
Comments3
'head-first, into your meaningful words...'
that's where, I shall ever 'Strive' - to go, but
sadly, those bumps in the atmosphere of fate
tend, to lead us a little off course, knowingly...
(I don't know what to say, dear Poet
I simply enjoy and appreciate every work you share!
and so I thank you, wholeheartedly)
Thank you my dear
& who knows where fate will lead us next...
❤️
Wonderful use of enjambment. Love the flow, as well as the rhetorical question at the end
Thank you! I fucking love enjambment haha xx
Well not only did I enjoy your poem but I also learned about enjambment a technique I often use in my own poems. A twofer. Thanks.
Haha thank you ❤️
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