prose

The Foreteller.

THE FORETELLER

He looked down and deep

In the green van of future deeds

Saw many generations lining up

But only a few jobs to come

There were the type of people

Whose job was to wire

Connect all kinds of cables

All day long

Till the times were gone

Then there were the type of people

Whose job was to press a button

All days long

Till they no longer existed

And all of their days were gone

Then there were the types of people

Special ones

Who could never be satisfied

Craved for the salty-savoury

Every day more and more

Till they figured out

How their days could not be made gone

prose

Bella Forgot Her Suitcase.

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Bella forgot her suitcase

In a multicultural staircase

It was a very high-functional stairway

Full of pneumonia

Sickness of the trapped free souls

 

Had to use the library restroom on the way

Thoroughly washed her face

After deciding to abandon everything

She sang on the way

 

Indeed – she wanted to go and see

The cactus land from her dreams

 

Running to the travelling port of air

Somebody had spilled dried cranberries

All over the floor, and her hair

 

Resemblance came in mind

Of the red cochineal corpse

Laying dead on the ground

After just a quick flight

On the other side of the night side

daily blog, no category, prose

The Promise.

Came up with a quick poem by watching the sun setting in my favourite tone of colours yesterday evening. I just wanted to add a small disclaimer that the prose that I write is completely fictional so it doesn’t always correlate with my personal life or views in general. It’s just some sort of post-modern poetry and should be enjoyed as such! The characters and events have their own life that should be analysed as such, not in reference with me (even though you get to know the writer a little bit better in the process).

Yours,

Miah

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THE PROMISE

The sky is violet

Full of violence tonight

Promising a good day

For a rain maker like me

Responsible for

Humidity and mist

Of the windy seas.