Desired….. you,
this dawn and dig-
nity ignored,
when promises are sylla-
bled for firework
and oleander tongues,
cause this little death
is when
the clamshells close
and lips are sealed;
— stitched
for secrets and de-
light; that’s how
I wake… at night.
Love and death by Francisco Goya
Linked to Tuesday Platform at toads.
January 28, 2018
Running in the slow lane
The view from here ... Or here!
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” — Albert Einstein
chronicling my quarter life crisis
Now we see through a glass, darkly
rejuvenatement - not retirement
words and scribble.
The Quantumverse
Poetry, haiku. Life, word play, puns, free verse
About fantastical places and other stuff
Björn Rudbergs writings 
Oh, clever…
You’ve given a distressing topic a fresh view. I really like “stitched for secrets and delight”.
i love this one
Yummy.
Fabulous poetry, killer-intriguing line-breaks, super-creative descriptions. I’m so impressed!
“when promises are sylla-
bled for firework
and oleander tongues”
I love that.
So clever, the use of “wake” at the end.
Great stuff, B.
A little spicy: cause this little death is when the clamshells close and lips are sealed; …oh my.
No better reason for a sleepless night. I really like the way you set this out, Bjorn. The line breaks and all made for a very stimulating read.
“.. when promises are sylla-
bled for firework..”
Ha!, love it!
The line break on words, in this, is very cool. Great balance in the start and close on this – that gives a sense of completion to the piece, rather than just stopping.
**Swooning over hyphens.**
“.. when promises are sylla-bled for firework..” now that’s stunning!💞
I love the reference to speech in ‘sylla-bled’, oleander tongues and sealed lips… poetically penned 🙂
stunningly layered and lovely in the teasing delights well hidden, yet offered openly for the tasting 🙂
dawn and dignity ignored.. wow!
And it’s also a quadrille!
Luscious and gorgeous, gives me shivers up the spine.
That’s why I wake at night….all those damn secrets wanting out. “Clamshells closed and lips are sealed…stitched” That’s why we write poetry like this!
Sleep is like a small death each night. When I wake it’s a miracle every time.
“Desired….. you,
this dawn and dig-
nity ignored,”
You had me at these lines, alone! 🙂