The Plumage Malady
By Strataic
A feather fell--
Tumblers twirled slowly
To devolve-
Finger-faces.
Around this world
Of out stretched nails.
They were pure red with mere seconds,
Though tendrils fumbled for periods more.
We could fit in between-
Folder-bindings.
These were concealed
By blue branches--
Because the skies had
Tripped over.
And wishes were skulked
From memory lane.
This--
This where
Only space existed.
I should have worn my stilts.
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Copyright 2013 Cipher
Published on Sunday, August 11, 2013.
Filed under:
"Poetry"
Awards
Comments on "The Plumage Malady"
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On Tuesday, August 13, 2013, dwells
(4288) wrote:
Walk tall, or not at all bro! Marvelous and magical, cheers!
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On Monday, August 12, 2013, xZombie Poptartzx
(334) wrote:
"is where Only space existed. I should have worn my stilts." i LOVE that ending. probably one of my favorites. you always amaze me :) xoxo