microscopic muses

Businesses   Forgotten  Cold Coffee         

peace calm flow waters                      undisturbed by time                               evening song sings                              

Summer’s (past) serenade  your presence felt a dreams deliverance                                                                   

Lies hidden under rocks You lift each one To discover the truth                              

Those eyes All knowing All showing Love   

  Bejewelled eyes That disguise  Loves hurt                        

Flames aren’t captured   in shadows Unseen  * source of l ight *                                                                  

At the centre                                                            of a (w)hole A whole  new world lives                    

  Iced inklings Turn frosted fingers Into blurred words                              

Be careful what you do Careless manoeuvre Consequences                   

  Sun filled clouds   Smoke screen skies/eyes Perceptions Realities                    

The day stares at you and you stare back at the day; * both *   with blanketed covered eyes               

  I listen to the skies  *now* and try to hear the clouds Yet all I am greeted with is the sun’s silence                     

The day, grey;  inside  and out Water coloured skies, watered down; until unrecognisable                                    

Light fades from   an  operatic day’s sky    And silence begins to stir the storm of nocturnal notes

A Poet that breathes                 Will tear the most Yesteryears memories                                  * relived *                                                                                                                           

  Look further than the flower     L ight lives in darkness   Additional existence      

                                         Loves language lingers Your lips awaiting my lips Igniting truths song

                                                                                                                                I am the carpel                                               You are the stamen                                             And everything else is                                                        Poetry