#10
Can’t blame me
for what you didn’t do
Promises are forever
Sunsets and clouds
are above us daily
standing still in time
The gift of love
is special
in this life.
not sure I like it, what do you think, looking for feedback, Thanks
Colour Written
Coolness of hot breath
Summoning the winds
You ask I write you colour
Now, where to begin
The sweetness that you fed me
Lingers on my lips
I quaff a heavy drink
When I drink in your kiss
Storm dragon dances
Summoning the night
The winds of change are coming
Carrying it’s flight
Silent, gentle hand
Tremors on warm flesh
Persuasive innocence
Cleanses like the blessed
Black Swan Lake
The black swan lake in a misty night, waddled, longingly to find a lost love,
Her lady swan, left him in the dark, when a great flood washed them out from the Lake Eerie.
The storm quiet down and the seagulls are coming back the shores.
When the early morning has broken, a white beautiful swan lake waddled gently in the lake as if someone has been missed.
But a strong cool breeze swept the perfume of every petals to set an enchanting night of romance.
The black swan lake finally met her beautiful swan.
Flown
The Bird of Plenty
has flown from this house.
Nowhere can you hear
her orange song like syrup
in your ears.
Tomorrow, say the right prayers
and call her back, prayers being
selfless deeds you give
the world
from the ache in
your hinterland heart.
J. Pratt-Walter (c) 2017
Hour 12.
certain endings
beginnings
steadfast continuation
on
till the final breath
intermediate slumber
and then forwards
new horizons await
Red Hat
Blonde woman with gamin haircut
and a bright red hat
does not wish to be overlooked.
At the step before the top step
everyone looks at her,
yet all we noticed was her yellow
feather attached to the hat’s brim,
and all we recalled was broad brimmed
bright red hat.
Acrostic Writing
When I’m writing, I get lost in myself, lost in the moment, lost in the story, lost in passionate imagination.
Right-hand controls the wielded weapon, while the left hangs on for dear life, keeping sanity intact for us all.
Infinite are the possible stories, characters, settings, and images, to set them all free at once, is how I fill my pages.
Tender are the moments when a protagonist dies or the heroine meets the man of her dreams, during his birth.
Infectious is the drug of spirited discovery, when the muse plays her music, in my mind, and I dance to the rhythm.
Never can I go back from this life I’ve established, created, molded, and now relish more than I ever thought I would.
Grateful is the emotion that springs forth every day that I wake up to a blank page and declare, “I am a writer.”
on the other side
If I fell to my knees,
jeans in the dark dirt, would you raise me high?
What happened to this heart, this love?
Why do we believe in the world that failed,
pray for the smoke and the poisoned lungs
of babes which sucked in everything
we nurtured, the venting spleen
which gave way to your mothers’ toxic waste,
your fathers’ mute faces, distant, and even still
we burn the flags that offend, we scream and moan
and jeer at those who try beneath the thin mask of offense.
I have no words for swine. No pearls for the great apes
who lope at Wall Street, the common man who
leaned over his drink, softly weeping to Patsy and the jukebox nostalgia.
The old gods had it right. Cut off the organs of the father
eat out your lives, hold the world on a breath.
This is an entreaty to you, lady of golden eyes and honey love.
Naked Lady of the Half-Shell. Come back.
10. There is no difference
There is no difference
Between you and your money
Your face is like a bank
Note that you never smile
On there, in god we trust
But where is the church
In the stock
Market me now
To buy me love
And believe in yesterday
Don’t beat me twice
Or I call my mum
And she will tell you off
Off the beaten track
There is no difference
Between you and a monkey
Monkey business
You’re high
On your tracks
You’re flat on
Your feet
Go down the aisle
Search for favorite cream
The new ham
And the crafty sauce
Your mum loves
There is no difference
Between a till and you
You both count on no one
But your wallet
To count your money
In change and notes
Nothing in your journal
About the death of
Your dad
Only numbers
And greed
Only fluffers
And deeds
There is no difference
Between you and your account
No balance to balance
Your life and your wallet
Which is the heaviest
You don’t know
And don’t even consider
That thing to be true
There is no difference
You look honest
But it’s only a look
And you don’t look
At what is not seen
What a mistake
There is no difference
Between a clown
In a circus
And you
Oh yes there is one
He is smiling
And people laugh
At least
There is no difference
Homage
Interplaying homages of every poet’s tales unleashing
Wording valuable like gold tidings as well as his legacy
Creative juices earmarking every steps of the way
Liquidity and solidity of every crisp verses in its interval
Clarity and cohesiveness like a pudding on a small plate
Dessert of every moment cascading times refreshing
Pleasing times emulating in every corner enriching anew
Trials and joyous experiences always reminding
Classic tales of varying nomenclatures reaching its hype
Launching in every moment as inspiring stories
Lucidity in nature of our humanity
Giving off meaning and depth
A true being in the universe
© Roy Mark Azanza Corrales 06082017 8:05 AM PST