No intention
These words were never meant
The word poetic
Has found itself unpoetic
Never intended for music
Or for argument
There is no epic, or sonnet
Of rivulet
Neither is there purple tinted skies
Or timpanic symphony
'unpoetically'
Unwritten
Unspoken
Neither hidden
Nor seen
There are days full of graves
Tombstones for faces
Clouds full of dreams
Substance?
My heart
These rain spun stones
These crystals of unfathomable light
Night streets splintered with tears
Where have yougone my love?
Where have you gone my love?
Refusing refuge and solace
Some days lye empty
Half woken from their sleep
Refusing the poetry
The invevitable singing
That follows falling down
And spinning wheels of madness
The desire for doing nothing
Being almost spent
yvette m smith feb 09
poem by Yvette Smith
Added by Poetry Lover
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