The Poetess

Such velocities are difficult to match at best my worst won't do
To lift the latch , unhinge a catch like numbers hidden in an antique watch,
Perhaps it's just the way of words the reads of write or wrong we wish and want
The time that waits to bury all, chides and taunts our insides our faults divide
See how they slowly die only to be miraculously reborn to multiply DESIRE, wears her face and form the NIGHT grows warm as are the dreaming stars burning like ETERNITY , like singing veils of mystery moving through all the history written like lines of fantastic poetry within the passionate sonatas of her EYES~
I will wrestle with these thoughts for now, caress the familiar worn keys that type my doubt into frames created only once and forever to support this violet ghost like flame, a port so thin, like a needle's spinning aperture, the End folds into itself beginning to appear unsure, which door is meant to walk into,
Such velocities are difficult to match at best, my worst won't do~



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2016-10-17 at 23:12

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Ok you had me at...Such velocities are difficult to match. And by
I will wrestle with these thoughts for now, I think I was starting to crumble and then darn it by repetition you hammeted home

at best, my worst won't do~

I mean...leave me with some dignity!
2016-10-18