Just for the lols

A Variation of Bibek's "Flying"

Inspiration is a slow climb.
One bookstore to the next I walk,
Just browsing books and weaving rhymes
From off them. Yes, these words I stalk.

I listen for the words missing.
Be it in this book or the next?
The bookstore is my labyrinth,
My minotaur these words that vex

Me. I turn the poem over and over
In my mind- how it leaps out the window
Suddenly to greet the afternoon sun.
Do they wish to burn? Oh, distorted words!
I see your shape or fate without form,
Fate without hope. And so, the bookshelves blast,
Burnt papers fly, I aim for yellow light,
A piercing shriek on my back- Pure, blue sky
Stretching as far as horizon, I go
Looking for the lyric that I let lose,
And set controls for the heart of the sun.
My unwritten plot, I am Dedalus,
Taken off to the sky for half burnt books,
To grab that poem let slip, my Icarus-
I hope it won’t fly too close to the sun.

I found it languidly laid on the lap
Of some fair beauty I had never seen.
I asked- as the author, could I too nap
Between her legs? She could not disagree.
Not always bad to lose a poem perhaps
If the outcome is always this serene.

And so, I crept between her legs
Dreaming of what poem to write next.

Poetry by Sameen
Read 152 times
Written on 2017-11-17 at 03:02

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Lol, the ending. Creeping between the legs. Never thought about that.

Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
I like it. :) Quite artful,really.