“Tawny Plumage”

The pendulum swings,

as the butterfly loses his wings.

The moon rises,

a saucer missing its cup.

The second hand chases after the minute,

a fox after the hound.

The street lamps buzz to themselves,

oblivious to anything not in their circle.

Dreams have trust issues,

so they come and go.

Attention is the prize,

a bird preening its feathers.

But nobody wins.

“Falling From Symmetry”

Safe on a tightrope,

falling from a microscope.

Drowning in a pool of stars,

purchasing our pretty scars.

Writing things on the wall,

using honey and a tiny scrawl.

Forever fighting our mirrors,

slaying those ugly little flaws.

This is how we get our claws.

Like Narcissus of old,

trapped in front of a reflection bold.

Only she dislikes what she sees.

“Barren Learning”

This culture, this society,

they claim to be the salvation.

The Saviors of imagination, the Defenders of the different.

This is a disproportion.

Creativity may be abundant,

but in education it is bereft.

They focus on plastic ideals:



and exams.

Classics are stripped of bone and sinew,

their contents concealed into bare, boring flesh.

Writing itself is murdered,

poisoned by prompts and thesis statements.

All that made it beautiful,

scattered to the winds,

marred into a generic format.