Skip to main content

Featured

Remembering You

Remembering You

A ghostly flower blooming and withering,
(or blot) blinking with colors that strain to brightness,
to equal those of what were seen before;
fragments, with the music or plain utterances
attempting to be as loud (or as soft)
as what they really were...

But all in vain.

Blurred and ephemeral. Just for a haunting and fleeting...
Many times an unexpected visitor,
an intruder, inside...

What is complete and constant is that depressing spirit:

Void of form and details, yet lingering, encumbering,
dragging. Punctuated, highlighted,
by the thief that intermittently
gives, curses, and leaves

with a piece.

Trees Made








Trees Made




The trees

I say the making of land was slow.

Suddenly they appeared,

Appeared as they were,

Appeared as they are.

They were made green

 

I say the making of land was slow.

They were made to hold lives

They were made to go wild.

Made to live 

And made to breath

 

Out of curiosity.

One, two and trees are important

Stronger than winds

They can defeat natural disasters.

The giver of shadow,

The retriever of oxygen.

 

I never thought about something 

I can talk about, but only trees.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday

They are there

Thursday and Friday, they release

Fruits of life.

Saturday and Sunday, I am done!

 

 Olivia Thembi D'writer

Comments

Popular Posts