Array ( [sid] => 181903 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => splinter Her [time] => 2015-10-02 18:02:58 [hometext] => I am not the apocalypse nor the promised land.~Jose Mujica [bodytext] => where are wild
things?

where the birdsong
promise?

where are my secret
poems?

but...improbable
light does twinkle

so let's stir up the hunger
the hunger the hunger

can I speak sparkle?
can you? do you search

for the pale prophet's
eyes? nowhere. nowhere?

nowhere. the flowers
are wilted. the trees

do look dead
the silence feels

like peace poking ideas
between the darkness

and the light sighing
and maybe returning

home.

[comments] => 3 [counter] => 219 [topic] => 73 [informant] => ming [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract ) Your Poetry Dot Com - splinter Her


splinter Her
Date: Friday, 2nd October 2015 @ 06:02:58 PM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: ming
where are wild
things?

where the birdsong
promise?

where are my secret
poems?

but...improbable
light does twinkle

so let's stir up the hunger
the hunger the hunger

can I speak sparkle?
can you? do you search

for the pale prophet's
eyes? nowhere. nowhere?

nowhere. the flowers
are wilted. the trees

do look dead
the silence feels

like peace poking ideas
between the darkness

and the light sighing
and maybe returning

home.



This poem is Copyright © ming


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