Plodding through naked grassland.
Ears bewitched by the emerald flute.
The hazy red of silence tortures my eyes
and tantalizes my tongue with its sweetness.
A decapitated fern leans dejectedly against its brother.
The black fog of exhaustion
immerses itself deep within my bones.
The continuous chatter of sweat permeates through a nylon glove.
My soul bent upon the speared cup
set high on the sweeping terrace.
I hesitate longer, exhaling splintery doubts.
Foreman of the bag choking in my grasp,
a slice of earth lays wrenched from its roots.
I saunter forward, thriving on pressure,
soaking up the dullness of time.
Arms thrust high towards blue hope that hovers above.
The sphere of lust trapped within a billow
falling, falling.
A leap over the hurdle as it confronts the tender darkness.
Now a fist escalates
as triumph reigns.
The reflection of an eagle echoes through grey eyes.
| 
Email this Poetry
| 
Add to reading list
