Give me your sleeps ;___;
Jul. 17th, 2009 02:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kolInsomnia kicked in again so I rooted around my saved files and drudged up a couple poems from 2006. They are, incidentally, the last two poems I remember composing. Both were written in class, probably during November.
White Ash Morning
The fading light is graceless
as it brushes spines of fumbled pages,
racing the silent bells of exodus.
Hands are black and spotty,
tumbling past noon.
Outside beckons, where
the fragile canopy has spilled
gold blood upon the lawn.
Above, the white ash sky is
cast between black fissures,
stark death in Nature’s last gasp.
Fit
I long to dance beneath your skin
To try your sins on for a time--
And to shed them without a second thought
As I grow tired of your everyday nightmare.
But as I push my way inside,
I find that you don’t fit me anymore.
I remain stubbornly proud of the first one, since it pretty much captures the final minutes of that class and longing to be out on the lawn kicking my way through the fallen leaves. I have no idea what prompted the second one. Poetry can be a pretty personal thing, so neither of these might work for anyone else but I'm happy with them, years later, and thought I'd share :D.
White Ash Morning
The fading light is graceless
as it brushes spines of fumbled pages,
racing the silent bells of exodus.
Hands are black and spotty,
tumbling past noon.
Outside beckons, where
the fragile canopy has spilled
gold blood upon the lawn.
Above, the white ash sky is
cast between black fissures,
stark death in Nature’s last gasp.
Fit
I long to dance beneath your skin
To try your sins on for a time--
And to shed them without a second thought
As I grow tired of your everyday nightmare.
But as I push my way inside,
I find that you don’t fit me anymore.
I remain stubbornly proud of the first one, since it pretty much captures the final minutes of that class and longing to be out on the lawn kicking my way through the fallen leaves. I have no idea what prompted the second one. Poetry can be a pretty personal thing, so neither of these might work for anyone else but I'm happy with them, years later, and thought I'd share :D.
