Poet13's Blog

Pacing the floor looking at lines forming
a faint fractured fresco etching my pale palm
thinking it wasn’t the happiest of lives
but then who is happy truly in life
what shape does it take how long can it last?

Once I thought I knew joy’s features
but forms conform to forces familiar
and I am fond of contentment.

Wishes wane in fading sunlight
the pictures they paint are black-and-white
less pleasing to eyes than to mind
a reflection of function over form
some chiaroscuro bastard offspring.

This coupling of wisdom and experience
seems messy but inevitable – a birthing
a serene infant too smooth and formless.