Withered Verse

Standard

water-melon days
fringed in curdled hazel horizons
race on invisible feet,
moments trotting away
to blend into obscure mists
of a memory-shackled yesterday.

every morning
like a frangipani blooming
bears promises of versatile tasks
to tackle and tussle to completion,
yet the kitchen and laundry
together seem a monstrous chore
refusing to be finished.

cobwebs sneer
in the corners, cupboards
are like confusion redefined,
window panes
myopic with dust films
glare blaming incompetence,

the sink is eternally
enceinte with dishes,
the broom seems to me
a newly grown appendage
of my dusting, mopping limbs.

forlorn
my pen languishes
on polished surface
of literary escapades now lost
in mundane preoccupations,
as poetry blossoms
and withers in thoughts
like the blooms of sakura,
never to be
eternalized in ink…

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One thought on “Withered Verse

  1. Harbour Admin

    The language in this poem is unique. Sometimes strange. Especially love these lines:

    “cobwebs sneer
    in the corners, cupboards
    are like confusion redefined,
    window panes
    myopic with dust films
    glare blaming incompetence…”

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