Wednesday, January 28, 2009


I wrote this poem last night and finished it this morning. Does it flow alright? I feel like the end and the beginning don't match.

What is inside of me?
I couldn't say.
There are dark corners
and things that skulk
and things I push away.
Every day I try to hide
things I cannot see--
and fear.
Sometimes at night
when silence is loud
I think I'm a chasm--
A hole- a void-
I peer in and see
Sometimes when my mind
has drifted away on music
I imagine I'm all
gold and silvers inside,
like sunlight.
And my fingers make music,
and words, and worlds,
it must come from inside,
it must come from my heart.
Right now I am twilight inside
surrounded by sky,
I fear the darkness approaching
Blue-black velvet rolls in slowly
and bleeds into pink and purple
swirls still afloat in the sky--
the last artwork of the sun
which has already sunk out of sight
trailing golden-blue rays
of hope behind it.


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