June, fountain of sleep: murmurs in a drowsy tone—
shuffle of leaves, keep the peace
throughout the afternoon, a hushed breathless figure
waits, none to say or stay down.
I wait too, until the curvy ghost fades in the ground.
June, is an intoxicated music hall—
Every tune turns out, rhythmically with deepest runs
surface of darkest stars, I waive my steps with midnights
darkling beetles eat and bites, back where the tips enraged—
impotence of rage flares out, and the music dawdles draught stouts.
June, awake in the rusted parts and the sun perks up
the last link, sings a song of rosemary
and I, quaffed the delight enrage of sunken eyes,
Like all those ship wrecks but shadow of lucid lines
blaze out, a chainsaw in the brutal rugged feet.
June trips and tires with dampen roads,
And I, once a dreamer forgot the lyrics that emerge
two broken parts, seems a complex radiology tech—
Drill, shrill, disoriented voices clamped on!
I, a wanderer forever in the change of madden drown!
June learned, trips with ebbs and tides: I,
followed the mute volumes of surfaces, taught me differently
water bucket is unfilled, nature never revives in hills,
You must look below the dark retrospect, with aspects
of infant years, sing and swing the bells always!
. . .
This is somewhat an ode to my birthday month or for all junies! lol
— 1st June, 2023
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PoetryFeatured on @WattpadPoetry / 16.04.2023 ❝ sometimes we find the words, yet somewhere they find us, together we dive into the ocean, unknown to the world, unaware of the uncertainty ❞ ━━━━━━━━━━━ n e w poems are always added in the beginning. Q u...
