Poetry, Uncategorized

Poem from snatched lines of a book

So much for the outer defences. Suppose he hadn’t failed. Tried to hint at some of the reasons for the fact in its naked reality? They went together unanimously though shyly, without the need for explanations. Swans like to rest in this position. He got up quickly, but it seemed to him slowly, and went behind the other side of the tree.  The white flakes of wood lay all about him. He was one of those people who would never be a follower or a leader, but only an aspiring heart, impatient in the failing body which imprisoned it.

 

(Lines were taken from random pages in The Sword in the Stone by T. H. White)

Poetry

Winded

Life can wind you even when you’re already struggling to breathe.

A sour taint that has you reaching for the super glue

to try and stick yourself back together,

though at first you hesitate, the thought that this is your fault

and not just something that’s been hiding in secret for a long time

waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike

staying your hand.

 

But the breath you’re seeking will return and fill your lungs to full capacity

with fresh, clean air

and not the toxic fumes you’ve been inhaling for so long.

Your beaten self will revive and flourish

in ways you never knew it could.

You just need time.