Written by Elysian Huyz
It always sounds so beautiful
in my head at first
until it shatters into air size
atomic particles and fall
unto a blank sheet of
photoelectric paper as a
scrambled puzzle.
Some words get lost in thought
others lose essence, stutter
and fail to glow in the dark.
It usually starts as a spark,
an ignited tingling in my heart.
A word, a line that lingers and
meanders into a sea of parables that
even I sometimes do not understand,
other times as a rhythm, a rhyme
that sings into a lonely child’s lullaby
reminding him that the stars on his
ceiling are fake.
A flood of fluid emotions that drowns
clowns in a tea cup filled with air,
stripping him of the candle that makes
his smile funny to strangers that need it.
Poetry,
Writing,
It eludes me like the feelings I
try to catch up with but stumble upon,
falling on inverted letters, words,
riddles that am supposed to make
meaning of but fail, to catch the
butterflies that float in tiny spaces in
my head, fail to dance with the dragons
that breathe memories that leave sun
burns on my chest.
It confronts me again
something I’ll ultimately fail to understand, like
How sounds make meaning to the deaf
How night makes difference to the blind.
How am I to explain to you
how feelings are coined, create equations that result
in questions like how babies are formed,
with just words, words that do not magically create like
let there be light or minds ignite.
This is what am enburdened to do;
Make ships fly, help dry bones rise
Make tears into fluids that seep into veins
and leak into brains to tell a troubled mind
that someone out there feels the same way
as you.
ART : Linnea Strid
Deep… belle lettres…
Poetry and art in general are one of the great wonders of the world… to me that is.
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I totally agree with you. Thanks
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please make your meaning clearer next time…thank you
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I shall try my best. Thank you for your comment.
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