Poems
by A.J. Huffman

 

 

I Dream in Seclusion

 

An empty bed, an empty head,

both feel the same when light has been

extinguished.  I search for signs

of smoke or spark or glint of residue,

an ending to metaphorical

tunnel that has consumed me,

but I am round, and these walls breathe

like squares.  I am squeezing myself

into a perfect discomfort. 

I was damned to fit.

 

 

 

 

 

Aquamarine

 

Overkill

               of cohesive labeling

descriptives, mashed together seem in direct

contrast to indecisive nature.  Pigmented

parts:  blue and green

wrangle for their turn

in the light.  Neither quite make it,

                                                         meld

into each other’s sickly saturating embrace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rainbow Bridge

 

Mountains over meadows

temper sun’s watchful eye.

It is crazy

how neither notice the golden

arch, sparkling faintly

right between their eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

Glitter Unplugged

 

Reflective skin stripped

of its magnetism.  Light

becomes repulsed by remnant

hueless shapes.  Gathering in

partyless piles, disregarded as common

variety dust.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of Egg

 

hatch

crack

scramble

baby beaks

                   or

broken yolks

                     both

born

before dawn

 

Rate this poetry.

Copyright is reserved by the author. Please do not reproduce any part of this article without consent.