Notes On a Wrist
"Notes on a Wrist"
the pulse felt
under nibs
of fingertips
translates a life
the semicolan
stretches like
the devil
hungers
it can
wait a long time
eternally feeding you
drip by drip
ever present
the missing
hovers, like a
hummingbird
never sits
beak and feet
wet in the detail
tasting the temptation
to cut strings
fleeting
and fickle
like a child
switches graces
the keys
black and white
the forest contains
all your precious things
hard to leave
leaves, all their
autumn winter stories
sentences written
and spent
like veins
singing stinging
the body of work
temporary rent
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
"There is a fable in the forest
whispered by branches as they blow,
a tale about the truth of leaving
things that no longer help you grow.
For on the surface it looks simple;
like you need only lace your boots,
but there is nothing quite as painful
as untangling your roots.
And proof is found in tree stumps
of the price some pay to flee,
that they would cut
their lives in half,
to cut the time before they're free.
Yet from the little left behind
Life has been known to grow again,
for unless you take your roots,
a part of you will still remain."
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
