FreeFlow

The turning of the clock
life silently droning away
scornful passive day

neonatural familiar thought
fingers curling length of smoke
a gnarly rigid friendly bloke

ultramarine, a crushing breeze
sun upon my nose
a twitching sneeze

footstep lightly spritely blunder
the roar of lion echoing thunder

eyes wide open dreaming soundly
“I am nothing’ I thought profoundly
an ancient particle wandering freely

mongrel golden feral dog
breathing shallowly in the fog
hunched up tightly balling fists
futilely realizing nothing exists

narrow stalk tree
twigs twisting lean
branches inviting me up for a climb
wafting descendant sweet smelling lime

human essence thrown into the mesh
pushed, shoved, kneaded about
earthly juices seeking pulpy flesh.

FreeFlow

Wendy  Stivers

Indian Harbour Beach, United States

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gaia poetry

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  • Wendy  Stivers
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  • Wendy  Stivers
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