It encircles, stings
so loud in sorrow,
half-truths & joy.
The scenes, so clear—
blues & other hues
except red, except red.
Closed, covered in a
rain of p(a)ints, a reign
that lasts forever & ever.
Now halt! Pinch your
navel, tap your finger &
to(u/r)ch your genitals.
The Blurs
Olaitan Humble
(C) All Rights Reserved. Poem Submitted on 06/17/2020
(1)
Poem topics: joy, rain, sorrow, forever, clear, finger, red, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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About The Blurs
The Blurs is a poem by Olaitan Humble. This page includes the poem text, poet information, related topics, comments, and similar poems.
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