Rumour my night
Send a rumour to the visions in my head,
tell them it is my blood that has been bled.
Let them scramble and for information delve,
find their corners to fetal position themselves.
The rumour tips and topples the lights and shades,
disorganizes the views lined disturb ably made.
They will beg and plead for help from the thoughts,
the visions fading, darkening, and blinding spots.
Send the rumour so my head can be cleared of light,
so it can finally get to sleep on this restless night.
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Author:
Maplespal (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 5th, 2025 05:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
So identifiable it seems one's own thoughts not that of the poet. Well worded in images familiar it speaks to the inner self. Images well painted call up visions of the past, dreamlike it speaks from visions best left undisturbed awakening the slumbering dead. It bleeds unrest and weakening from the hemorrhage it sleeps. A wonderful poem that deserves a fave
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