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Sometimes in poetry

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  • Sometimes in poetry

    I listen to resonance ring
    in ingots slung upon anvils.
    I witness images slip inside
    hesitant visions of dualities
    and trace words from lips
    unkissed by this reality.

    So what of these swirling waves
    wielded by the seas... perhaps
    wind patterns in wheat fields,
    or the summer-warm stones
    in some forlorn churchyard
    lonely as bony Mondays?

    I feel warm winds lofted in liquid birdsong. I see
    people unwind their temporal chains as God
    wanders through cardboard stage-props
    taking names. And any loose intuition
    is just a collective echo of thoughts
    scribbled across ad-libbed finality.

    Numbers rotate unscathed
    in their mysterious dance
    upon cellular divisions of infinity.
    Giant cog wheels of history
    roll into the seas and rust.
    In polarized inversion,
    wintry midnight suns
    throw no shadow of ego.
    Somewhere on Earth,
    a drop of vanilla ice-cream
    falls between sandy toes.

    Last edited by Mark Thomas; 01-18-2021, 04:22 PM.

  • #2
    Welcome - a pleasure to have you hear.