PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My sentences at night

sometimes are crossed out

then ramble off

ending in prepositions

they plead with

my solitary self

as I chase an idea

then they waver

and morph

never mistaken with timidity

the chase,

it is always after something wild

the chase,

then, it is private

out there 

wherever it goes

it visits unconscious and archaic places

seeking

always searching

in risk of getting bitten

now is a tough time for this poet

left with  perishing cadence

rhyme less lines that had briefly merged

stimulated by only one poem

here I am gazing at facades
in search of simple truths
still those pontificated gestures move in behind me

all of those assembled echoes,

each one yearning for climax

those rhythms turned into dominions

with lessons imagined
 so how could I write this

with hand
and words

a lone voice self-confessing into the winds

of time

closing another wound

another want kept waiting

am I the color of dusk

that is  always chasing
and left in want of my summer moons