sunnuntai 5. lokakuuta 2014

silence is death and storms are alive

I  wake up with water in my lungs
savage and dancing
courting storm clouds

There is a fright in the calm
in the lull of sound
where words go to be forgotten
fear frozen, silence bound
for what is a storm
but a bladless sword
without roars
without thunder ?

I forget I am a poet
erasing budding sonnets,
soft spring
grass green vowels
that rise to arms from my legs and wrists
rattling hands and shaking fingers
tumbling down from restless lips
as staccato bursts of ruthless
machine gun fire

What I don't forget is the lapses
between the letters
carefully woven
stitched together
to pacify the vast desert &
chaos of a white paper
blank, screaming to
keep the water coming
keep the words flowing
let the storm be silent
no more

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Whisper your message to the waves, the echo will reach me.