Friday, June 24, 2016

Butterfly Pins

Butterfly
meant to die
when it's devised
to shun the way
we reach

because
in time
we'll see
the lies
So it's better to
stick pins
upon
the cloroformed


Waning
at every whim
to see
the glow
it's grim ..
must light
a torch
for we
to be
set free
like in the Secret of Nimh ..

but never do they sway
from their callous and
wrongful
ways
so disrespectful
is this
when they
want nothing
but to twist
until
you are
a mist
in the air
while they hiss

N.M. Rose Guedes

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

River bleak

Gray desolate
pitter patter spit
cold and crimson
on the breeze
twilight lit

forget me nots
lining the river
as the rapids rise
tiny pedals shiver
how to get across
impossible it is -

doves do not
make nests over here
the crows only jeer
in fear

N.M. Rose Guedes

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Miserable nook

Cold is the window glass
tough until it shatters
though it cracks and fogs
in the absence of
what matters

Clear it isn't still
and it kills the view, the thrill
and an empty pocketbook
lies
in the cluttered, moulded
nook

lies lies
there it lies
it lies among
the mould and
flies

it's unaccounted for
this is surmised -
for how can one write plans
in something
unseen
by their eyes

Miserable nook
one can't even look
one can't see the book ...



Rutflare

Knocked off the beam
fallen off the path
back into bed
back in the bath

Imbalanced is the rhyme
ticking is the time
swallowed is sublime
as it lingers on the line

Cut are the ties that chase
fallen from grace in haste
it's hard to get back up
when your arms are weak -
it's rough 

and the beings' keeping
a tab
and the longer drawn out
the drab
the more 
it is
fishbait
'til it chomps
and says
"too late!" 

I was in the air!
but now I'm in
Rutflare 
Get me out of here!
get me out of there ...

N.M. Rose Guedes

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