When he thought of death
(if he thought of it at all),
his mind took it to be
a burden of life,
for everyone knows
that this earthly shore
is terribly infected
with the miseries
of numberless mortals
who slowly died,
exhaling away hours
with each breathy
rise and fall
of those fragile lungs.
I got a new blackout poetry journal that uses classic literature to inspire new works of poetry. This first one is my attempt at making original poetry from a random page of J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan:
Nightlights
My love,
were not all natural
dreams forgotten?
The skeleton
crawled about the floor,
rattled up the chimney,
and bathed her hand in sleep.
Nightlights pulsed
while strange children
found new mothers
in the faces of the night.
Once all were safe
her fears sat down
by the quickening fire,
warming the nursery.
