Vermillion
In the embers of passage across
strangled water , two by three by
seven equals, Nothing but our
imagination & an illusion of Pretence.
To give up forth hence so sweet
in memory , So Bland at present.
I'll take a stab at a month , striving
to be free of all , Yet, craving
the Constant Equation , A padded word cage
& Pitch of Supernova
held softly. Waiting for something
the Artist brushed a cloudburst to the side,
satin canvas cracking as the iron wire scratched
in His New Picture. Until the Moment is up &
wretched
comes the sun.
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.
