PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Witch hazel jumps the
gun. Questions arise.
Why the cuckoo will not sing today?

I am drumming the wall
raised between us,
opening a small window towards the sea.

Strange things happen.
Full moon was bleeding
Astringent. I call for the mountain's music.

This fractured statecraft.
You become a stone after a blast;
moving towards the periphery.

Half-naked a statuette
was walking in night to find a
mortuary where Apollo was laid to rest.