Words make me feel fulfilled occasionally.
Keep track of me on Insta @purpleproseandposies
Midday Moon Cool and clear like lake water Spying on the waking people ) Midday Moon Cannot quietly tend the tides Seeks an unwilling audience
By Violet P. Davies5 years ago in Poets
. . . How high? . High enough that cities at night look like motherboard circuitry . That rolling farmland looks like a patchwork quilt
Perhaps I'll write some sad songs in major keys Or dabble in functional tonalities Got plenty of time, and the inspiration's free
Meet me where you go When the world gets too loud There I'll be, you know Trying not to look proud Yes I've got the map to your quietest places
It seems that my saliva’s been misplaced So now my throat is dry And my lips are cracked And I don’t mind, but I mind
By Violet P. Davies6 years ago in Poets
There's only one route here Down all the widest streets Up a breathless hill And flying down the other side . There's only one route here
When I got here I wanted to run Old people are sad to see drunk And the young people are all strangers And there's not enough of them
I hear the dewdrops speak to me Of distant fields and far off mysteries ... The grain of sand can speak, as can The leaves, and each so differently
One I'm sure there's nothing else, I just don't want to leave. The heart leaps into the throat And blurts unbidden. Not entirely a surprise;
I'm sitting sweating buckets under the roof over my head Reading a Twitter thread On the phone my parents pay for About how some people can't afford to work
By Violet P. Davies7 years ago in Poets
In July, flying high, a patchwork appears Bold chartreuse pieced with deeper green The canola's in flower, in its goldenrod hour
I've caught spring fever I sweat it out all alone Cursed travelers April is in my mistress' face, but May may not Flower readily
