as much myself these fourteen days of June
sun-dial and moth in a bucket full of worms
we kissed as insects dragging tails to the polished room.
old ornaments of velvet bees with bullets in their guts
stampeding left through the marrow of a heart
king and cockroach wrapped in Sexton's skin.
one flower each for the birds who cannot sing.
each day you feed the world I cannot breathe
through buttons of my scalp from a kittens womb
as bored as love as I on a pheasants wing.
our early days of Dickens when chivalry passed away
in debt of tunes from marching bands of hearsays' told you so
where blows a wind the ragged people go.
'til death we part as strangers in our dust-bowl of delight
no less myself these fourteen days of June
sleeping with the dead in my polished room
too soon it came and went; too soon;
-
Author:
Melvin James (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 22nd, 2024 14:35
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments3
My heart be with you in these days of june, June a very hard month for me too. Absolutely painful I felt all your emotions and the depth of each tear dear Melvin. 🌹
bless you Teddy
Tremendous choice of language and imagery.
thank you my friend
The first of yours I have read, I am so pleased to have stopped by.
one flower each for the birds who cannot sing
Anniversaries can be so painful. I felt the depth of that pain in the wonderful choice of language and poetic expression. The finest poetry.
thank you for stopping by Cassie,
and for your most kind comment.
nice to meet you.
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