May is coming. :)
I long for
A wrinkle on your chin,
I want your breath to grow again,
I need more still, to feed the wind
The old wicked wind at my back,
Yes « blow, wind ! » Yes « come, wrack ! »
Push me, brother, through hilly lands,
Hunt me down for days and nights,
War after war, the palm of your hand
has carried the divine thorn in my side.
I remember, once,
The sleeveless girls of May,
Sticky thighs and leaves of bay,
Death changes good men into partisans,
But we, sappy poets, will remain fool,
Free to piss on graves and schools,
Soothing daisies
with a worm-eaten soul.
S.C.R.I.B.E.
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I love the words you used. The line above just beautiful. Great work @chaosreignstv
Thank you Oskilo, I'm glad you've enjoyed it :)
Awesome content!
You got a Resteem and a 100.00% upvote from @cleansingpoetry courtesy of @chaosreignstv!
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Ah, can't believe I missed this last night!
Such great rhythm throughout, and then that rhyming couplet in the fourth stanza is like sweet icing. All your poems have this grungy quality about them which makes them so contemporary, even when you deploy the classic poetic tools. Almost like you're giving us a shrewd wink as you wax lyrical, totally down to earth and self aware.
Thanks so much, you got me so well, I swear I'm gonna start framing your comments and pin them on my wall! I do think that poetry is materiality. It's a physical approach of the world that is more natural to me than any other interaction.
This poem breathes! And I can feel it - I absolutely love that! I just want to sit in this poem and stay here, just be. Such float, wonderful to read!
Wow that's a beautiful compliment, thanks @vuds :)