Poetic Wall Flowers
If I could roll my words in tightened balls
and throw them then, against the critiques walls
some might stick while all the others fall
like drunkards, stagger home after last call
to greet the rising sun with swollen eyes
scratch upon a napkin despair’s lies
folded in a pocket o’er my heart
the musings of a fool and midnight’s tart.
Oh God, this heaven, darker than its hell,
unwoven words their silence yet to tell
curse the day the scattered words were found
condemned by courts whose words were never bound.
And so I roll these words in tightened balls
and throw them still against the critiques walls.
©4/24/2018
submitted to – LATE APRIL STANDARD CONTEST
sponsor – Brian Strand
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