In elegant baroque galleries
A spirited poltergeist unfurls
It’s wicked paraphernalia
A swish of frigid whispers
Swirl around ornate turrets
Murals touched with darkness
Glitter in the truant shadows
From precarious chandeliers
Swings a nuanced laughter
Smirking at the ways of men
The colonnades they walked in pride
Now playground for the dead and wild
It was more purple than green
An ugly gash refusing to heal
Salve nor balm, rest nor restrain
Strong enough to erase the pain
A bruise so blue, a crimson tear
Sweet hurt with trembling fear
Yet, I tend to these injuries deep
Purge the venom, not let it seep
Into crevices of my soul so grim
Discard memories like dead skin
These lines were specially written for the prompt #blindman by #moonmystic. With all our vision we are unable to discern truth from falsehood, genuine people from the fake ones.
What the blind man sees
Is more intricate than
Any emotion deep
Or touch we feel
Without true sight
With power infinite
Sensing silent tremors
Buried in murky souls
Hearing gentle murmurs
When tender hearts spoke
With all our vision
We know neither fair nor evil
For all we know is a countenance
Feigning affection or
Shielding the devil
In a moonlit paradise
Touched by wands
Of sterling light
Lustrous magic
Weaves a cobweb
Of glossy dreams
An argent sheen
Covers the night
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 