it's the rarefied feelings
where you linger
in depths of mind
becoming the chirography
of my eternal soul
in a climax
of thoughts
you become
my poem
and i the poet
i lay you down
on sheets of white
in a fingered touch
like a poet's pen
play with you
amidst words
through confines
of darkness
as they erupt
in the rise
and fall
of winded breaths
leaving me
lusting for more
than metaphorical
writes of poetry
Categories:
chirography, poems,
Form: Free verse
All my letters
are deformed,
beyond a cure.
Contest judges
trample over my
clumsy curvy lines.
Voice of my bruised
verse is not heard.
Sentences zigzag
with slow-moving
fingers. Unanswered
questions become
coffin-bearers.
Ambition is lost
in the cloudy
chirography.
Black box sounds
my broken dreams.
First appeared in The Literary Hatchet
Categories:
chirography, inspirational, writing,
Form: Free verse