Because reality is not quite true…

I have a habit of writing poetry when I am in-between confident creativity and writer’s block. When the words are flowing in a semi-conscious, formless state into pretty pictures on the page. This is one from 2007. Let me know your thoughts!

Quite True. J R Manawa. 2007.

What bends the trees?
Who guides the wind,
On these pale gothic nights,
Before the rain?
In these storm-turned skies?
Painting shades of pastel-grey,
Colouring the wind with,
Smells of unease.
Damping light of day.

What runs across the land,
Like a ravaging fire?
What whispers to us,
Tales of stranger things.
What prompts us to know,
It’s wrong?
Something is cracked.
Something has been broken,
Since it was made.
And nothing is well.
A gap that can’t be filled.
The twilight zone between,
Heaven and hell.

What keeps us awake,
On quiter nights than this?
What tickles our mind to
Grander lives?
But this is what,
Keeps us going,
What turns our heads
In the morning,
And coaxes us to
Rise from our beds,
Something that is not,
Quite real,
Because reality is not,
Quite true.

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