Fool's Paradise
By alexwritings
Sun, 23 Jul 2017
- 774 reads
2 comments
1 likes
Wetlands at dusk:
pink-skinned water ripples
with the sibilant trees.
A great orchestra
of atmospheres,
the virtuoso lift of keys
from minor to major.
Jet planes
design the sky;
their etch-a-sketch of mixing breaths
is a kind of wounding.
Until thoughts
of sex
reclaim the scene,
landing like bouncing bombs
across the lake,
ripping up the reeds,
leaking psychedelic colours
milkweed whites . . .
Silly-String pink.
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Comments
I think this is a
I think this is a good poem but I don't know anything about poetry, even so I enjoy it. This one is quite erotic hey?
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