Sharing with The Sunday Muse #204 . It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening ran behind me dragons, demons, and the sleeping world; afraid to turn, to wake me. Power needs its horror stories, its ghosts. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening followed close; a fantasy of goodness, where the gold is always covering bones. Power needs its fairy tales, its witches. It's too far in the afternoon, I thought but evening treads my hem, like an army from the dragon's teeth and all the lies therein. -- Chrissa

Twit? You? Not a chance, the poetry you shared proves otherwise.
ReplyDeleteYou ain't no twit
ReplyDeleteNever heard you giggle
Sun sets on frogs
..
Et tu, Chrissa?
ReplyDeleteDespite the risk of Shay scorning me forever, I have to say I enjoy the occasional *well-written* haiku, which this is. It's excellent. Sadly, the form is probably the most abused one out there. But no twit could have written this one.
ReplyDeleteYour lines are evocative and bring much to think on in such a few words. Also, you are as far from being a twit as I am from winning a marathon or a beauty pageant. You are one of the most brilliant poets I know my friend! Never forget it!!!! <3
ReplyDeleteI'm convinced you don't qualify for twitdom!
ReplyDeleteI hear the thunder of hoof and see the shifting earth. This is very very evocative. Bravo.
ReplyDeleteThanks for dropping by my blog
Much💜love
This is excellent.
ReplyDeleteNo twit, you. I love this!
ReplyDelete