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Literature Text
Bottles in the gutter and rain-webbed windows
And eyes that won't close.
Tens of hundreds of nights with rain and sirens
And one flat pillow
And eyes that won't close.
Coffee on 2pm mornings, so near peace
And night comes on slow
And eyes won't stay closed
Brandy in the cold-
Warm in the raw way
Missing something feels almost holy sometimes.
Love undefined buried years behind young eyes
That still refuse to close.
And eyes that won't close.
Tens of hundreds of nights with rain and sirens
And one flat pillow
And eyes that won't close.
Coffee on 2pm mornings, so near peace
And night comes on slow
And eyes won't stay closed
Brandy in the cold-
Warm in the raw way
Missing something feels almost holy sometimes.
Love undefined buried years behind young eyes
That still refuse to close.
Not all love needs a definition.
I'm not so great with metered or rhyming or generally restricted stuff, but I tried to limit syllables here (So free verse, but not quite?):
[11,5],
[11, 5, 5]
[11, 5, 5]
[5, 5, 11]
[11, 5]
Just an exercise/experiment, but odd numbers bother me and so do the things that inspired this.
SUGGESTIONS/OPINONS WELCOME
I'm not so great with metered or rhyming or generally restricted stuff, but I tried to limit syllables here (So free verse, but not quite?):
[11,5],
[11, 5, 5]
[11, 5, 5]
[5, 5, 11]
[11, 5]
Just an exercise/experiment, but odd numbers bother me and so do the things that inspired this.
SUGGESTIONS/OPINONS WELCOME
© 2012 - 2024 EternalEmber
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