Strummings of Primordiality

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Strummings of Primordiality

Strumming guitars within the water,

nature calling,nature reserving,

Wood dripping,

Oh no, how tactful, little golden strings harping their way onto your flipped hair,

you’re not really there,

you’re within the buds and confines of terra herself,

gravitationally whisking you towards her great lair,

of primitive matter and why do the permeabilities scatter

lines and little pointlike circles

scrolling together forcibly,

in vibrato

what if the grasses could sing,

oh it’d be such an odd thing,

they would tremble and pitch and tune and loom,

soprano, tremolo, entropy and fright,

the grasses stroll along with everything all right,

sit down, take a chair,

watch us dance in the prima matter lair.

Submitted: October 18, 2012

© Copyright 2021 pinklunarcurvature. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



This poem is amazing! I love how you combined music with nature! Two of my biggest enjoyments in life! :)

Thu, October 25th, 2012 2:19am


Thank you! :) Very much mine too.

Wed, October 24th, 2012 7:29pm

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