Saturday, March 14, 2015

My Attempts At Poetry

#1 The Town

Buildings press hard
into the cold,
glowing night sky.

High heel clacks
off deserted shops,

music blares into vacant skulls,
words are shouted,
but barely heard.

Can fulfilling love
really be found
in such a hollow place?

#2 Start Of Winter

Clouds list lazily
across the pastel blue sky.
Their soft demanor
allowing for endless potential
molded in the eye of the beholder.
Trees cling to the last of their green,
preparing to reveal their souls.

As birds sing sweet nothings to each other,
a warmth sets in.
Not in temperature,
but in soul.

Akin to the clouds,
opportunity sits on the horizon,
waiting to be molded.

New experiences, faces and places
all sit within reach.
But they are not to be snatched at,
instead to be enjoyed as they fall like ripe fruit.

Ironic how such warm optimism
can be found
at the start of the years
and darkest months.

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