The Dark Poet
I’m quenched by the stillness
of ignored puddles against a curb
stepped over by those without time
avoiding unnecessary imperfections
My hunger vanishes from the grayness
I welcome and embrace
The sun burns away my thoughts
Tells me to use him for play
where all the world comes out from hiding
A union of laughter displayed
This picture is not my home
I am the cypress, a center piece
Known on an ordinary day.
The only light desired is imaginary
created in me by Erebus
where imagination is sparked
And words of power infuse together
born from the lightning
in the darkened sky
Day dream
Picture on the wall.
I'm there, framed inside
where I touch the cold ledge
slightly wet from the facing sea,
swaying in its sparkling dress.
The tingling salt on my face
I feel from each new current.
The sweetness of flowers
doing back strokes in the water,
waving their stems
back at me.
The twirling breeze brings me
back to the days of freedom.
A child's summer delight
to stay out until the setting sun,
welcoming the new day.
The seagulls call.
I hear my name
in their continuous song.
Sounding clearer now,
I turn away and sit
outside the painting again.