the dance floor’s got stories to tell — moving right left away around, from this mess a floor I pour my soul through my soles my shoes pining down, up inside single undulations — drawn up moves save me the last © Engaisi Peter, 2023 I thank you for reading. If you’ve liked this, you might also enjoy…

how time moves when love comes — hours bloom past midnight ours, akin to asking fast not to miss an answer in floral spring breeze swings there not — there might be you and me, afar in floral spring field’s time dials seven for all but my minutes love, making sweet scents of jasmine sway tender across floral…

when we forget nights and remember new ways — morning birds mourn death of night a worm’s birth in bright day at once light gathers about their wings sail into vows of a new day hours bowed into gifting gratitudes of well worn good mornings good tidings glimmered forgivings for one wrapped in day light awaits eager hands. unburdened by…

life just might be good — just enough of salt and honey going down a turning of all skin into a fingerprint to touch, a mark leaving dent in space, in time a coming together and apart of all color in black and in white too, what is between a going up not without a going down to nowhere but…

reflections on storms — rain and other kinds a wisp of a cloud moves the direction unknown undeciphered in the knowing a life appears the same stay the changing and the changing stay the same to unmask the difference we try and succumb to our ends we do I know…

cheers to new endings a curtain’s close a beginning savored in salt and heaps of mixed terms if a finality could be foreseen some would wilt at the feet of fate picket fences, calendars, and red roses obstinate into a lover’s longing for the before and above to dance as they…

a poem from the cauldron you simmer softly on the way out forgetting an awful long breath held in your favor only to blow a hundred thousand years from your hollow some fishermen saw your underbelly smoked up and covered in daily sustenance it sang them a sweet song that turned their…

When endings begin boulder over a body of dead dreams carved in grief cry, dear child. For yours are the tears that green the new grass © Engaisi Peter 2022. All rights reserved.

A reflection on the natural state of things there in this I saw you gold not as it is on jewelry but before it is mined in all your molecules and the bonds in between that coat your surface with a color a tell-tale color in the warm living of…