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Y Lolfa

My rhymes form in clouds

over the arm chair

beside my note books

and the fire


My lines are captured

and preserved

in the remains of the forest

immortalised on its pulp

My words are held captive awhile

in the bright prison cells

where machines etch their pain

on smooth white sheets


My once quiet thoughts crash

noisily onto the leaves

again and again

and are swept together


My open mind is close bound

and my couplets covered  

held, forever ordered

dissonance forgotten


My captive codex is held  

waiting in the dark

Later, I will be freed

into the world



◄ When She Left

Summer Seascape ►


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jennifer Malden

Mon 18th Feb 2019 16:46

Very original and clever. Interesting comparisons.


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Jason Bayliss

Mon 18th Feb 2019 12:23

Beautifully put!

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