Excerpts from poems I will never write @scribble-scribbles-poetry - Tumblr Blog

Orb weaving spiders craft some of the most intricate structures in nature.

400 million years of evolution lead to her spending hours, spinning fibre stronger than steel, building a net and a home both.

She is named for Arachne, so skilled she could challenge a goddess at her craft.

Her work is beautiful, but she has built it on my washing line

And it is laundry day.

To be human is to know the worst parts of yourself by name

Is that what we are, I wonder?

Bugs on a windshield, inconsequential but for

The mess we leave behind?

I'd dig through heaven's basement to spend eternity with you

The vicious child of a dying world

The type of fury that ends with good men dead

His is a savage legacy

The highway is a liminal space. I drive and drive.

I do not stop.

I will be on this road forever, and for no time at all, until eventually it spits me out at your feet.

He'd always known the shape of his own demons.

My hands are sticky with blood and juice: poets, prophets, peaches

And yet, up through the concrete come trees

Look at them.

Can't you see that they are beautiful?

Calling into the empty world

Anger was an intimate part of her.

She could sooner let go of her own bones.

Fate loves her favourites like the monarch loves a soldier.

Excerpts from poems I will never write