Fabric Torn Of Time

Is there rhyme, nor froth Frost reason
To sow thy folds, plying wrought time
Dost dew one exist, amid lisp warp voids
Whence breathing be, dye muted mime
Forlorn echo knot, twisting taunt tight
Wet leather, plied to fork - tongue passages.

Naught, be not I, scar bit needle Lit embroidery
Eyelet scorn, small to bear, twine heart threads
Falling to pieces, amid fraught decaying peace’s
What is in thy name, blown away, in dust storms.
As if, washed out to see, no more - tidal tide times
Weather tatter torn, decay ring, before blank mirrors.

Whom am eye to eye that time will wilt, dust skirt away
Forget-me-naught, mid freeze frozen, anonymous rhyme
Deserted be, thy dried poet eyes, of sandstone grit pours
Ring down hourglass refrains in metronome stoic stances
Bellwether smelter swirls depressions, ink stain whirlpools
Wind blown lashes, mired, amid past present pain grains.

Ask me knot, to knock - sulking on would, why thee was born
When sown, deep within thee, be seeded purpose of conception
Life Bee, blessing buzzing branches, bearing Poetry Germination
Write thy dynamic ripple of leaves, swaying branches - vivid verse
Echo naught thy name as Master, but pauper pawn poet professor
Of HeArt sowing preordained seeded Poetry: Fabric Torn Of Time


THS 1966 Poet