deepundergroundpoetry.com

Inklings III...

scrabbling on my slate
scraping stars
into the pitch purple night

shattering through opaque
aching scars
that blur my sight

to see the dawn
break over the horizon
over broken soil

vineyards spawn
dimensions rising
awoken from my oil

folding the paper
into metaphors and similes
inhaling breath of life

holding the vapor                              
cue a barren poor land to brim lilies
prevailing death and strife

crossroads connect
with parallel lines
that denote and blend

from ink I select
with pastels of time
and scenes floating in

my gilded mind frame
as my pen nails the picture
inside your skull

building into a hurricane
my stick stir
leaving tides to mull...
Written by DeanD
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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