The Selling Crowd

You push through the heavy draped curtain
Stand, on the cusp of the stage,
Tilt your head back, slightly to the side
Embracing, what’s to rise up next,
Drums, perching on the echo of your ears
As you hum, your own song,
Jeers howling out from the massive crowd
While you applaud yourself
For breaking script, even with the terror
You are held by, locking you in their
Sight, from backstage
Until the end of the show.

©DorianPoe 2015

Book Collector

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I am a lover of books,
Hearing the wrestle of the page
As I race to catch up,
Lost in the world of it’s characters
I can not be disturbed,
Suspended above
Waters of a tale so elaborate,
You lose yourself a bit more,
Swimming deeper into its syntax
Finding secret passages
Of a mind on the brink of madness,
The lull of it’s final address
To you, the reader
I’m fact enrages you!
Shoots your heart
Spins your mind in disbelief,
Arguing with it’s final words
But inside,
Knowing you were wrong,
A bad breakup
An easy way to fight your tears,
But you move on to the next
Engulfing tragedy,
One, not so reminiscent of Greek
Or Shakespearean,
It honestly, wouldn’t matter at all,
I am a lover of books,
Collecting on my shelves
Richer from the company
Of so many great conversations.