Words Aflame
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I cling to reveries of hours, the ardent
Reflections from flowering summer’s root,
That in my journal moment, the crimson skies
Are aglow with tulips long as floodlights:
Then I burn phrases the way one does in
A flamed trance swerving in pure daze beneath
Night's crescent moon...a blur of penciled observations
Whirling like a blazed feather that on the river
Of late duskfall, I would still tumble on a hay,
When syllables grow along racy tunes--
Flinging jubilant, morose incidences from life's notes.
Oh, radiant stars could not help
But drown my hands in raw and intense
lines which bury my eyes deep in verses’ fanned:
I'm loathe to leave my untamed story as
Twilight fades...etches drip and clouds huddle
blown paper sailing like inked, bloodied onionskin .
Written 10/5/2018 for Caren Krutsinger
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Playing With Words Under Fire Contest
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2018
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