Tired

Awake again when the world calls a slumber
In fields of quaint pixies farming hills o’dust
Aloft like reverb that trickles the bucks asunder
For and aft I think the long wisps are as rust

I told the stars to remember my true saga name
When the mother moon winked her special yawn
To take again and taste her wild embers’ flame
All in, fixed and staple eyes for a morrow dawn

Liar branches scream good night but such hunger
Lemon tarts and daisy charms to rumble they fake
Monster lids like demon children and even younger
Their laughs haunt my spare for I lie still, awake

  • ufosIsee

    ufosIsee

    Brillant….. What an awsome picture depicted with such coverage.. Damn good.

  • ryan munson replied

    thank you. i am glad you like it. it is one of my favorites. thanks for commenting.

  • RosaCobos

    RosaCobos

    To sing…
    once and again…
    twisted words
    in simple rhymes
    but delicate vocabulary
    to express the reality
    behind the yawning moods.
    Rosa (really wonderful to read)

  • ryan munson replied

    thank you rosa. great comment

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poem