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No Fixed AddressAt 2am -No Fixed Address
When sleep has deserted me like a disloyal lover and the wind blows uncertainty across my pillow rousing dusty questions from the dark: that's where you live.
On empty roads -
between the long line winding behind
and the miles stretching out ahead sighing through the tyres tired lullaby:
that's where you live.
In the sounds of songs -
somewhere between the plaintiff piano notes and the resonance of restless beats; lingering faintly in some wistful lyric: that's where you live.
In airless airports -
in the faces
by ~Riversprite
Something moreIf my secrets were superpowers I would sweep you up with one arm and carry you away.Something more
You would be so surprised as we flew up somewhere into the night.
If my secrets were one of the Seven Wonders you would look on them with awe. You would be amazed and impressed and say something like "Now I see you in a whole new light!"
If my secrets were successes I would invite you to the award ceremony where they honoured me for my accomplishments. You would be so flattered to be there with me as I spoke to the gathered masses with humility and insight.
If secrets add
by ~Riversprite
Glass1. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WALLGlass
The blurred moving colour through the thick
glass bricks suggests that there might be people on the other side. But I can’t be certain. It could merely be the wind moving the plants.
2. BUTTERFLY
She bought it in Murano - a butterfly made of glass. Swirling blues and yellows, destined never to fly. It broke it on the plane On the way back; The sharp shards Shredding the silk sarong from Mauritius cutting little wedges of colour out of the photographs
before coming to rest amongst the f
by ~Riversprite
Favourites
The Day That Daniel Josham...Daniel Josham was a twig of a kid, made up of layered shirts hung loosely on his frame, no doubt hand-me-downs from some bulkier sibling. Or worse yet, scavenged from a Salvation Army bin past midnight. His features stick in my mind where my wedding anniversary won’t: cheeks flecked with freckles like the speckle of eggs; spectacles with thick lenses that bent his eyes to bulging; a bloom of bright orange hair like brushfire crackling from the top of his head. You could spot him in a crowd without thinking, a fact that only made the disregard of others bite harder.The Day That Daniel Josham...
He never bought lunch from the canteen; it was always dutifu
by `apocathary
whiteby ~fotouczniak
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- Current Residence: Johannesburg, SA
- Email: clebayka@hotmail.com
- Skype: Riversprite1
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Don't blame me.
I'm just here for the cookies.
I finally got a chance to read your poetry properly but still I need some more time to actually really comment... Just know that I really like your poetry hence I've favourited most. *sniff sniff*
You probably don't know who this is but it's ok, you don't need to know. And no, I'm not a creepy stalker!
Awesome brilliantness!
Lots of love
-Skye
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You paint your blades with my =RawEm0tion
Happy stories always end with the =SkyAndNatureClub
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Your playing small does not serve the world.
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You paint your blades with my =RawEm0tion
Happy stories always end with the =SkyAndNatureClub
(Lex)
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You paint your blades with my =RawEm0tion
Happy stories always end with the =SkyAndNatureClub
--
No need to thank me for "Faves" or Watches; however, if you feel the need, please do so in my Shoutbox.
Thank you.
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