poems

Less and more.

less and more.

06/09/2015

I am here both less and more it seems.
New job carries time constraints.
A sleep reduction with more open gates.
Less and more.
Justice outweighed.

Passionate insights of butterfly lovers holding hands in a sunlit field with spread wings and dainty feet.
Light and reflective.
Their shine my passion, their glow my direction.
Their destination?
My powerful expression.

Laughing heartily a thousand raven’s leave my throat as a feather falls solitary onto a grave.
A million blue hues are drowned by a million blacks as it lands on marble.
Rest in peace my friends.
My name fades like a famous movie scene as the sky turns dark and the day cold.
Peck, peck all around as they search for remnaints of the spectacle.
Captured once in a photograph.
A poem.
A book.

A bird’s food hits marble once and twice before taking his last breath.
Clasped in the artists hand with both bulging knuckes and raven eyes.
Quite still in the sunlight.
Both dissappear.
Seconds pass as the started dark winged creature flee’s in dread.
The dirt rains down heavily like ink on cream as I stand.
Born a new.

Copyright G.P Williamson 2015.

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