Dominique Webb Poet Quatrain

Wise Gig

If you fortune a tangent,
You’ll get a stash,
A rill of crescents pageant,
Old and holding the gash.

Perception not able,
The dynamo dies in the land,
Normal cable to stable,
The bearings of negates and hand.

Piercings whisper through the ears,
Wheat quakes to sliver rum,
Dermis exhalted the overdraft years,
The pollination riffed the drum.

Chrysanthemum sung to oak,
To know the structure is of the silk,
Bacchus architectured folk,
When muscle, mind ruptured n’ did silt.

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Ashok Kumar Mishra January 25, 2020 at 8:15 AM I re read your poetry, after reading your story.... To fine tune your expressions in this poetry, a little refinement is needed! So one like me can also understand easily too

Ashok Kumar Mishra January 25, 2020 at 4:22 AM I'm totally lost! How do I decipher this... The must be a clue... Ashok Kumar Mishra January 25, 2020 at 8:11 AM I read, your story... Your a brave person... Being limited by physical capabilities and surrounding norms, you are still doing awesome... My best wishes... May you be having strength like this always... Regards, Ashok Dominique Webb January 25, 2020 at 7:29 AM I’m afraid I’m asylumed at the moment, in a mental health unit. I needed to go to a neurology hospital, but instead I’m in Edinburgh’s psychiatric hospital. I’ve recently on 8 August 2018 been set free by life to help myself, to assist myself. I now, rather than with a carer, shower myself, can dress myself, feed myself, undress, bathroom, beauty etc, and it is absolutely fantastic. My parents were religious, faith healers, and kept me disabled. By claim to doctors and social workers. Thank you.