When inspiration comes, it spreads its wings,
Then off I’ll fly, as a bird that sings.
I’ll roam through this world, soaring high and free,
Unable to sit still, my spirit will flee.
The future will discern black from white,
So I kept stirring my words into light.
What use are golden words if lost in vain,
When even your partner cannot explain?
Like a gloomy autumn cloud, heavy and gray,
My verses feel tangled, all faded away.
Dipped in clear water, like sheep at the stream,
I’ll dry them like fish on this page, it would seem.
If my thoughts reach no reader, what a disgrace,
I’d be a fool left behind in this race.
Let the dust settle, let them gather in piles,
For dried fish will never spoil, even in trials.
A good thought’s worth never will fade from the view,
Words spoken with care will always ring true.
If you savor the words, like dried fish in hand,
The taste of those phrases will forever withstand!
grass is all but crisp
sun's rays have taken life
as we pray for rain
Like a dried-up fountain, I sip from my shadows,
Dusty memories, like forgotten books on shelves of dreams,
I swallow my existence, like a sea of silence,
And let it flow, spread, dissolve into verses.
I would like to open my heart, to sprinkle my blood
On the white paper, to write with the venom of melancholy
And to see how each word becomes a stiletto for me,
Deeply embedded in the flesh of readers, in the flesh of the world.
I need life to feed my death,
To feel how each breath becomes a verse,
How each heartbeat becomes a rhythm,
An echo of ancestral sadness,
And how my soul transforms
Into a river of murky light,
Flowing between rocks of pain, through valleys of longing.
Even if it kills me, I will scatter into words,
Like a rain of shooting stars,
Like a wind that whispers the forgotten names of ancient gods.
I need it!
Even if it kills me,
To feel how each letter absorbs my life,
How each sentence feeds my death,
And to know that I have lived, that I have existed,
In an ocean of words, in a universe of sadness.
I need it!
Even if it kills me.
Even if it kills me!
Something struck me
I saw bunch of dried roses
Underneath your bed.
so ancient dried figs
more than three thousands years old
old clay pottery
fresh flower bouquet
turned upside down and sun-dried
makes great centerpiece
I can feel my body cooking
It's drying out beneath the sun
A price to pay for such a tan
Skin cancer touches everyone
A long line of waters
Deep in hearts of bathers
A lifeline of growth
Weep of salvation brought forth
Waters of life over a mile
Outrunning a thousand stile
Gifts of life in piles
Surmounting torments of viles
Dreams on waters slate
Streams of sages proliferate
Sun beam of neon flickers
Teeming waters on pickers
Wishers with panoramic views
Dreamer of waters purviews
Like well-wishers throwing coins over heels
Eye-openers on picker wheels
A river full of life
A river lull of strife
Outpouring a thousand mile
Outscoring a thousand smile
On this river of hope
A bigger dream to scope
A kaleidescope of scenery
Grandeur over tapestry
One day the said river dried
No one ever wondered and belied
Gold in pieces on the ground mounted
In the hearts of gold sprouted
Euphrates...
A river
Well the flower he used to be has dried
his elegance,his auora is no more
Doesn't matter how deep you drown him
Those leaves are now srcambled,you choose not to hear the pain
The screams went un noticed, because he has finally dried
That bleed, exist no more,
his veins Carries pain no more
Because it wasn't, only the flower that dried
The ocean of ascending emotions that got traumatized in your love
has finally dried, and only sufferer that wanted nothing but love
Left you with nothing, but with the thrist that no water shall fill
because finally the flower has dried
Judge me not when I merry and make lyric
Of the most obscene and unthought-of frolic
Tunes,
The wait has been worth for the dunes to form
To behold spectacular dorm moulded in perseverance
Hard work and endurance,
The monsoon withstood long enough to pave way
For the calmer and serene moonlight,
Casting its beams across the dilapidated and sun-baked
Land, on which stand round and about
Only remnants of the former glory abound
Standing still sans life, sans hope, sans all that astound.
Deep within the decomposing flora of the beautiful
Aura that adorned the sacred corroded land
Now an adage of the most told beatitude of the fallen
Beauty and unmatched wit
The distant echoes carouse, kicking disjointed limbs to rouse
To life, to till with the only worn remnant hoe
Into the diamond-hard foe
To conquer and restore the fallen glorious city
Crying in distress,
Calling out for resuscitate and attent
It is not about who lost more.
It is not about who can sacrifice the most.
The friends you lost cannot be restored.
Just try to focus on the people you will never be able to shake away.
Just try to focus on how tired you are.
So by the time you wake up-
The tears will be dry.
This flesh with all its ripe pleasures,
trespasses, and weaknesses,
will exit, in the end,
as a prune of time.
The news is..! Britain is favorite for the euro vision
Showcase.'
That will show it just what it's missing..'
LOL)) Ukraine is I Apparently going to win
The contest anyway..?
Top seat and jello
From aunty eu.)
I didn't hear that
From Joe Biden.!
I don't think so at least. ?
Sun-Dried Rain
David J Walker
Following the path of
Southwest winds
Carving canyons
Starving clouds and land alike
Making sand of topsoil
As pilgrims pray for rain
staking a claim in blowing dust
In bilingual refrains
of long missed moisture
and drying rust
Sun-dried children cleansed and swaying
on backyard clothes lines
dying for a drop
of Sun-Dried rain
Who will be selected Queen of
This year’s Dust Storm Fest
The ink has dried, musings shrivel
Inspiration flow dead
Words we form, puerile drivel
Emotes best left unsaid
We wish to but cannot
Bound in a narrow slot
Ego thought comes to naught
Our time we bide
The ink has dried
13-March-2022
Quietus
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