Desire

The poet, granted an isolate word

reaches with trembling bowl

 

stumbles the stairs trips on a root

grasps the thin shadow of a branch

 

like a dreamer realizing the dream

too quick to flight wakes up empty

 

in a dark bedroom on a moonless night

without a word. The silence, barren.

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

10 thoughts on “Desire

      • Ugh. I’ve got more salt than pepper on my head than I did when I started. But I’m happy to have the diversion of reading wonderful blogs such as yours, so thank you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s