Fire and flow of buried emotions
I had commanded to lie still
Gulping down anger
Silencing the rage
I waited for time to heal;
They gurgled wildly
In gorges of the heart
Streamed in deadly cascade
Burning lava from hell
Surged from the gallows
Spilled as luminous pain
All the venom I had held!
The quiet I usually crave
Patiently waits for me
At the corner of my bed
A pillow carries perfume
Of freshly washed hair
Mildly stained sweet sweat
Of long summer nights
Wrinkled sheets beckon
Hiding a half-open book
And a peeping bookmark hints
It may well be time to rest
The quiet I usually crave
Patiently waits for me
At the corner of my bed
Pillows carry perfume
Of freshly washed hair
Mildly stained with sweat
Of long summer nights;
Wrinkled sheets beckon
Hiding a half-open book
A peeping bookmark hints
It may well be time to rest
Shameless dreams spill
Sprinting over a window sill
Plucked from my eyelids
By naughty night angels
Who revel at my expense
Chuckle with exuberance
At how innocently I believe
In visions true only in sleep!
An apple tree
And a mystery red
Is knowledge evil
Or the best thing yet?
Why are men
Chastised for knowing;
Why ignorance is still
Considered bliss?
Where the vine tangles
Trumpet flowers grow in
Peachy, blissful, innocence
Sweet, balmy fragrance
Covering a vast facade
Of suffocating branches
So in life, beauty captivates
Even as breathless leaves
Perish gently in the breeze
Blue Pen Strokes 