bellsound

bellsound

 

If the end
at a glance
a whole gamut streaked
about to be found
last feeble fleeting
piece of a second.

Someday come.
When all the pages
are stained with words,
but for a white slice of purity
gliding over the dark fallacies
of thoughts.

The mesh, and the ink
has followed the trail
of remembrance.
but this life
being an anthology of instants
has a silent museum
of shadows and vivid
lights.

When all meaning
at last
is a shapeless mass
if in the end
at a glance
something is found;
a piece of motionless
bellsound nestled
by chance
in the straw
of the verb.

 

Contemporary Poetry

exit to enter

Gate to heart

All that I prophesy

is the way the world
spirals unto itself

there
space and dream
hibernate into consciousness

the product of my speech
is the withdrawal of meaning
in words
from reality to possibility

multiplying the interior
by tearing asunder
every perception
into further
fragments

ultimately
I have noise
as fur over the idea
of myself

beauty
sideways to phenomena
precipitates
towards the pinpoint
of         my
    heart

 

 

Modern Poetry Blog