deepundergroundpoetry.com
Valhalla
little red ochre box falls to the floor
my mothers watch says eleven minutes after eight
I see the breaking lid and stroke each platina layer
remembering her wearing it around her wrist
a cyclone wind will be approaching these coats
from seven galactic sisters rain drakes spew
cylinder fingers have written petroglyphs
I fold cloth around dried rose leaf
watch it burn as I lit it
Inhaling scents
hearing hissing
haunting hammering
hindsight
open in
cinematic cymbals
from ink black burial mound
I am the only one here
in a Bedouin death tent cries life
copyrights © Rianne 2025
my mothers watch says eleven minutes after eight
I see the breaking lid and stroke each platina layer
remembering her wearing it around her wrist
a cyclone wind will be approaching these coats
from seven galactic sisters rain drakes spew
cylinder fingers have written petroglyphs
I fold cloth around dried rose leaf
watch it burn as I lit it
Inhaling scents
hearing hissing
haunting hammering
hindsight
open in
cinematic cymbals
from ink black burial mound
I am the only one here
in a Bedouin death tent cries life
copyrights © Rianne 2025
Published Yesterday
Author's Note
I hit the submit button, for some reason, was working on this until the pc started spooking around,
Crazy weather here along the west coast, like witnessing a Circus! Tried watching a series but it stopped each time at the same episode, crazy weather crazy day, might revise this later
Crazy weather here along the west coast, like witnessing a Circus! Tried watching a series but it stopped each time at the same episode, crazy weather crazy day, might revise this later
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Yesterday 9:53pm
Mystical observation. Atmospheric conditions are some of the greatest muses in regard to poetry. The essence here is palpable, and the red ochre box containing your mother's watch hit me in the feels.
