Monday, September 16, 2013

Broken poems

Broken poems, scattered verses,
Bleeding quills and drying ink.
Dripping, streaking your eyes
I dream again, I see,
Eyes closed against the light.
Hearing, squinting, grunting,
The wave rises again.
Desire struggles, bonds break.
The darkness has always been.
Its morning, I can hear the sun.
The wind blows, feathers ruffle,
We take flight again.
Broken poems and scattered verses under our wings!

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