it’s too early for a Sunday morning
awake, lying in the bones of a week
the days are too regular, too hurried and unshining
they come on and on like slanted rain in my face
blinding me to things remaining simple
there are lessons to be found, somewhere
hidden in the rubble of me, in the playground
behind the ageless school of existence
- – -
I spend these hours absent of eloquence
missing the flavour of red roses
and green grasses and purple bruises
staying instead to be help to the masses
holding them back from themselves
being the razor to their stubble
a smile and kind words to their darkness
concealing all darknesses of my own
- – -
(ten word challenge)
2006
Pilgrim
Do we smell the rose or wirte abou it, live our lives or watch them. Beautiful work.
davecurtain
reading this it seems to me that these could work quite well as song lyrics over the top of some minimal beats. nice.
helene
Beautiful and eloquent.
Bridget a'Beckett
Absolutely beautiful afthi. Excited to find you on here…I love your writing.
Philosophy Lee
Where the heck have you been??? :)
“being the razor to their stubble”
I feel like I’m freshly shaved! :D
afthi:
Visiting Shrek (far far away) :P