You can’t seem to
keep your head
trivial inside
the fingers of sand,
when the wind-
beaten poetry
refused to leave
you alone on
the pursuit for
reflection.
With the infinite
purrs of dead
poets pinged like
seeds fallen on
rocks, you bolted
beneath the dark’s
slim drawer as
calligraphy read in
shadows.
When every
direction was one,
time remained
a wicked muse with
wraiths of poets
roaming over tight
rope, beneath lay
a collapse of
billing preserved
by the poems’
mound of bodies.
© Lana Bella
About the Author
A Pushcart nominee, Lana has work of poetry and fiction published and forthcoming with over 170 journals, including a chapbook with Crisis Chronicles Press (Spring 2016), Abyss & Apex, Chiron Review, Coe Review, Columbia Journal, Foundling Review, Fourth & Sycamore, Harbinger Asylum, Galway Review, Literary Orphans, Lost Coast Review, Pinyon Review, Poetry Salzburg Review, Poetry Quarterly, Roanoke Review, William Jessup University, and elsewhere, among others.
Categories: Featured Writer's
It’s truly a work of art the way you weave your words from your soul onto your canvas with such beauty that touches ones soul to another…
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Thank you for leaving a beautiful comment for poetess Lana
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Your so very welcome Lana!
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