Saturday, February 14, 2015

Dry and Uninspired

No wink, no nod, no wry retort
nor agony exquisite
to spur us into diatribes
and capers in the harlequin
soliciting the slightest smile
perhaps a little pat
from angels fallen and aloft
whose beauty shines
in frequencies that make us ache

oh what a sad existence ...
no. not even sad
for sadness hints
it is a thread
a trail of crumbs
leading to that seething cauldron
in which we gladly bathe, submerge
inhale in hopes of glance
or even eye-roll

Instead a blessed even ness
continuum of gray
not empty but just full enough
to keep the wants at bay
to feed a blissful ignorance
a numbness of the soul

Inspired by one of RC deWinter's Midnight Poetry offerings

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