Sunday, June 28, 2015

When will the poetry come?

Part 1.

Unlike flash paper.
We are not writing illusion.
Your poetic imagery is universal.

A shiver of sharks.
They smell blood.
You are impervious to their lasting impressions.

We began as strangers.
Poetry helped us to become familiar.
Pinup girl wordsmith.

I am a jackal.
And I still give myself too much credit.
My zeppelin is ego-driven.

Part 2.

Like the National Debt.
I’m over my head.
Your poetic countenance is irresistible.

A splatter of paint.
The painter bleeds.
I am indisposed to antique antiquities.

Start your engines.
Poetry gushes from your every pore.
Somethings are worth waiting for.

Part 3.

Like Cleopatra.
You are turning heads.
Your horse drawn carriage will lift off at any moment.

Charles Cicirella

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