Rubble Slips Off the Hill

Although I have,

On occasions, found blemishes,

The wrecking crew has figured late

Into the apologies.

The dream is a distant enemy,

And I have found my own jeopardy,

Lined against the trope

Where rhapsody silenced

Its journey.

While the blur has become blue

And the blood has wretched hues,

On time after time

I have ruled

In my memory, many lines blurred,

Many times tread,

Rejected and rallied black and blue

To treble too soon

The sake to shade

My lesser blessings to bear,

To wait is to weigh

 
It trails me – my angst

And the aghast I have found

Many times, red soles in rues of yesterday –

The decay of old

Painted in ink, plied by rough roots.

Warming to roam in lawns on my own,


I infatuated come born

And the lone road travel with

And the range trucks on

I capture an angled mine

One I can hold.

So sullen the vapours of the room

I stare at a wall

And it blooms.

Rid of raid to do unto

And the vagrant air skills,

I loom over my mirror to do myself off gloom

And the rabid reef comes away

The distance becomes mine,

To sway, or to spade.

 

© Prateek Joshi and WordPress, 2017

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