Sated within an arrested moment

Sated within an arrested moment

High on a hill is where these words find today, and it’s wondrous to hear words drawn from different wells, filling, spilling over in lines as a poetic flow tempers such a carriage, an artful presence sated within an arrested moment.

Here, descending the hill, old floor boards dry as bones, slip harsh withered splinters through feet, while to read aloud turning tongue around unfamiliar words, a delight came in the challenge just to get them right, though bludgeoned by voice several times, eventually to find resolve and let them flow, once more here in the tropical evening shade.

Here, nearing the bottom of the hill, my feet bleeding on rubble pavement and twisted glass shards, to find a fest in words and lines, coloured, flavoured within the deepest of wild dark cherry wines, a fine morbid writers table, to find one seated at, being waited on while served six courses, upon fine cyanide laced platters, a delectable meal to choice indeed. Weary though time is, leaning here against a tropical breeze.

5 responses to “Sated within an arrested moment

  1. The tropical weather references have a high effect and you have built a whole poetic scene… I loved the descriptions, Sean
    Best Regards, Aquileana 😛

    • Written while reading another writer’s three poems, the experiences had while indulging in a faraway location from their waltz. 🙂

    • Yes, splinters parting company with their origins into flesh is something I can always feel within the mind far quicker than most thoughts on unwanted collisions. Though in a savage way I’ve never caught any in my feet, but I wish I could say the same for the hands.. Ouch in miss calculated deeds.

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