Tag: crumble

Gates (day 3136)

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You guarded the gate
Like Sphynx afar
Stoned and vacant
And mighty imposing
Like a thundering Lord
With a wish for more
Yet slowly people
Fell away
As bricks built upon
A ragged foundation
Of imposed rules
And stolen goods
Will always crumble
Until at last
It broke
Hinges and all
Leaving each pebble
In your wake
A memory
Of a truth once shared

Throat of Life (day 2847)

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Wind is howling through this house
Like inescapable tombs of our past
Flesh biting flesh
Wrapped with fabric so dusty it crumbles.

Yet in open webs I can still see through
Nostalgia hits an ancient bone
That even her subtle breath of wind
Finds it hard to escape duty of.

Slowly eyelids close as raspy sun strokes,
A dying ember reminds us each
That our throat of life
Calms the day’s very nature.

Journals (day 1902)

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I want to prescribe my love to a book,
Hold it like dead leaves
Ready for to crumble.
I want my dreams to spill
Into a molten desert
My toes slowly roast in,
Pealing at the seams
As my typed heart scowers
Horizon lines flickering between
Icy reverence and painful reality
And papercuts
That read like smudged fingers
Of a well loved journal.

Journal by Ned Tobin