Pastel Poetry Please

The pallete overflows

Colors no-one knows

A spectrum of hues

Whatever I choose

But the grays get in the way

 ~

Wheels of color roll on the ground

Colors don’t matter if wheels ain’t round

Drawing time from sketchy books

Gradient defines good, shady or crooks

And the grays all have a say

~

Canvas pure, time no-more

Palletes bare, nothing to share

Thinking of more, brushes galore

Morning’s bright till dark of night

Yet the grays still paint my day

 ~

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Found Lost

Lost in the sand

Can’t walk, cannot stand

Vultures above awaiting meat

Flesh melts from my feet

.

Waves of heat ride the tide of sands

Blisters ooze muddies bloodied hands

Flesh burned, pores yearn, salt sweat dried

Sandpaper eyes, tears boil un-cried

.

Times far behind, miles are ahead

The only dread now’s not being dead

Visions blurred, yet a figure seen

The end is near, they’re in-between

.

Once blindingly lost, in a blink found

Screaming a last breath yet not a sound

Inviting any – enemy or friend

Kill or cure, any end

 ~

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Morning Triku #59

The Hunger Haiku’s

 *

Drips End

 .

Precious little bean

Sweet with cream dream, water pure

Hot tonic to cure

~

Scrambled Emotions

 .

Warm and firm to touch

Smooth curves conform in cold hands

Crack, beat add to heat

~

Lustful Awakening

 .

Its length is lovely

Its girth is great – Goooood Morning!

Sausage on my plate

*

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