words at 3:50 am

days meet ends
in nightfall

the crest of the moon
is drawn
upon the forehead
of the lunar devotee

the ceremonial wine
is pissed into a ditch

ink blotches on pages
create meanings
(please, don't count
the syllables -
the syllables
have no meanings
on their own)


Poetry by Thomas Perdue The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 461 times
Written on 2016-03-10 at 06:55

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josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Sorry strike had for half! ( I hate autocorrect!)

josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
I've lived in that ethereal space myself many a time but never described it had as well as you have here! Don't you love introspection :-)

Nancy Sikora
Beautiful images and the tone matches the title perfectly.

What intriguing images to wake up to (or fall asleep to, I suppose it could be either, at 3:50 am--the best time to write). I love the self-reflection on syllables.