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Literature Text
Humanity is subjective.
What am I? A mountain?
I may as well be a fish
for all I add to society.
Kill, cook and eat me -
I am flesh and skin.
What am I? A mountain?
I may as well be a fish
for all I add to society.
Kill, cook and eat me -
I am flesh and skin.
Literature
autumn's garden.
it was autumn's beginning
when he scattered a combination of kisses
on my collarbones & chest
(the rusted gate to the crevice of my crux)
in a vain attempt to unlock the possibility of a love so parched,
like the terrain of his treachery,
that the sweat determined to fall down our backs
would be enough to quench his thirst -
as if each kiss would be enough to transform my entire core
into a garden of his own
to play in.
with each kiss
he planted flowers in my heart,
with roots down to the core of my being,
knowing of the dark clouds
pouring down the rain from my brain,
nourishing the fruits of his labour
in a cool whirl -
a breeze enough to
Literature
Write Me
counting the dust in the sunlight;
and dew drops on fallen leaves,
embrace the mist from waterfalls;
come name the stars with me.
forge your worries on sea shells;
go toss them near and far,
close the times of misses;
and dream for dreams that are.
Literature
If Love is True...
If love truly accepts your whole,
then it shall free you, body & soul.
If Love's will can conquer all,
then a Rise shall come from the Fall.
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Like I said, humanity is subjective.
© 2014 - 2024 themagpiepoet
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interesting thought.