My heart masquerading as a stone
draped with a grey cheesecloth
unserviceable hands,
marble heavy
clumsy around skin
My eyes decorated with
the sadness of pin-cushions
I weep
Having mutilated myself
I contemplate the color black
Then, there in a hunchback of a night
the potency that lies
in simple gestures surfaces
A practically unfathomable act
of tactile memory jolts me
The wind loses it's sneer
I remember in my sleep
a bagful of promises
left on my doorstep
when the sun was further East
by a teasing fate
And color starts bleeding into the day
the secrets of the senses
starting to reveal themselves
the clothes of my mind no longer black
I put out my Sunday best
In bright yellow
and all colors of the rainbow
settle down to wait
(with some apprehension)
thoughts of another day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fourth stanza, outstanding thoughts....... thoughts circle round within this piece. Well done.