A Poem Since July

Taken by me

She is now intertwining some dainty words in her head
If her head was a shop where he could drop in for a while
While it was raining outside
She wouldn’t mind telling him feel free to pick up some words to make a full sentence.
She would say no need to be laconic, sir
“Words help you out those vivacious rains…”
But he never comes, so she sits here falling in sleep with her plaintive poem.

A poem for my little friend, Ch., For her little love.


Hope Is Sarcastic

Dream Catcher, taken by Emma Frances Logan Barker

Hope is like a disintegrated song whose
rhythm is more haunting than ever
but you don’t know how to throw its notes together.

You’ve kept telling to yourself
you’ll find a way oneday
you’ll write a chorus to play on those real strings.

At last, hope is like a treasure trove that
your mind shaped itself.

When Days Are Through

Hanging Laundry by Jeffrey T. Larson

Let me pick out for you
A day when you can see sun
Let me pick out for you
A dress looking obsolete
You no longer wear
On such a sunlit day
Everything is tempted into
Swathing in each other
Even the oldest blooms in diaphaneity
Of light, of veil, of our sombre souls.

Let me pick out for you
A line where you can hang your mildewy blues
Relentlessly elongating till the sun rises
Exposing them to the daylight
Let me pick out for you
A lingerie lingered with leftover sorrow
All night long
Just wait for sun
To be free from the solid colors
To sway along sparkling under the sun
Realizing the wind’s on your side.