— INBETWEEN —
clouds are where words hide to be.
A poetry collections part
of the | wordstobepoetry | project
|| silenced aura ||
silenced aura
by misconduct
returned upon
a resonating song.
Created in May 2022 by | wordstobepoetry |
|| devil’s verb ||
why wake up at dawn,
said the cloud,
when all there is
is a devil’s verb?
i don’t know,
said the essence,
i hear bird sing
before the devil’s verb.
Created in May 2022 by | wordstobepoetry |
|| last spell ||
resting inner fire
as life’s maze
casts its
last spell
—
Created in June 2022 by | wordstobepoetry |
Click here to collect on objkt.com
|| where to live ||
this is where to live
—the cloud above
a nest’s home
—
Created in May 2022 by | wordstobepoetry |
Click here to collect on objkt.com
|| lost ||
lost in a maze
| absent horizon |
mist eating hope
lost in a hope
| light lies in psyche |
inner fire lighting bliss
lost in bliss
| imaginary bliss |
—it seems
will it vanish or conquer?
—
Created between May and June 2022 by | wordstobepoetry |
Click here to collect on objkt.com
|| needed purge ||
blood spurts
as knives reins
| needed purge |
words cut
betrayal in disguise
| invoked fairness |
salted drops
dancing their soul away
| birthed bulletproof air |
green clouds above
welcome my mind
| beseeched catharsis |
—
Created between May and June 2022 by | wordstobepoetry |
Click here to collect on objkt.com
|| was it found ||
was it found,
darkness that
needed to be overthrown?
was it found,
matches to
the dying hope?
—
Created between May and June 2022 by | wordstobepoetry |
Click here to collect on objkt.com
|| heat poker face ||
life’s maze standbys
put a puffy grey cloud
above
real maze swimming
in a warm rebirth
of nature’s spell
| a heat poker face in disguise |
—
Created between May and June 2022 by | wordstobepoetry |
Click here to collect on objkt.com
|| little mountains ||
| little mountains |
drawn with
little relief
| little mountains |
living not on
little earth
| little mountains |
testifying their
home’s fallings
| little mountains |
seen as a
rejection’s mark
| little mountains |
are just relief
to be forgotten
| can’t you see? |