Blues catch like cold (but untold and forlorn).
And you sniffle a little, then freeze into stone
On your park bench where (flaming and swirling around)
The leaves that don’t touch you will rain on to ground;
Till the children and housewives and candyfloss men
With their lazy cries, crazy lies save you again.
10 comments:
back.
i love.
you. and. your poetry.
but why did you delete the poem for me? :(
Didn't delete, turned it back into draft. It was too direct. Not stuff for this blog. Had put it up here because at that time there wasn't another blog.
hazy eyes
I read this a while ago, but I'm commenting now.
This is nice. But it's time you wrote a really epic one. I mean like the old ones, a bit longer, full of intense emotion and blazing imagery.
Course, I get where you're coming from in this poem. Spells of the blues are generally not conducive to writing. Intense pain and suffering, yes. Depression, no.
I love. And understand, a little.
Back again. See you here?
www.notlostnotyet.blogspot.com
Hello, just stopped by your blog. Loved this piece of poetry...awesome....striking imagery..
Regards~ Sayandeep
Please write more...this is a gorgeous piece of poetry
your poems got a fresh smell..aah...
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