Micropoetry

Streaming

realities

Viraji Ogodapola
The Howling Owl
Published in
May 1, 2024

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Photo by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

In the nights we tremble,
clutching them the knees together,
but in the lights — lime
we swell, beaming the best
of our berated selves up.

Shunned by the heart
so dead and cold,
abandoned by arms, often
delirious — tongues tied, to mics
oblivious to harm — mortal ‘n grim.

Oh, but the eyes — eyes do lie, too!
Beautiful! The illusions —
of my eye, the third.
Sentiments, stirred.
In the haste of it all — or is that all?

The legs would have walked,
away — if they could,
off to shared shores of
a world — in another’s realm,
breathing in, sighs — all but blithe ‘n blunt!

©April, 2024

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Viraji Ogodapola
The Howling Owl

ashes dusted away in morph, in that moment next I’d be.. for now, here I am, grappling in just being..