This piece is part of Margins of the First Draft — a collection of poetry that was originally written in my teens, seems I was a very dramatic writer back then.
2. a Fire was lit in her heart
And I wish
That my poetry was a flammable fluid
With words spilling from my fingertips,
The smell of petroleum,
The light of a match
Set his world on fire
Poetry on the Margins #2 Afterglow
I wonder, if words alone could ever set someone on fire.
Think —
someone pisses you off and all you say is one, simple, word
and they turn to ashes.
Splendid... huh?
Well, that maybe is not what I meant.
Entirely.
More so,
I was hoping for a little sprinkle of magic this piece could evoke —
perhaps, even gently, tug on the heartstrings?
Perhaps haunt someone?
To be honest,
I certainly would love to haunt a person.
Note to self:
When I die,
haunt a person.
Misplace something,
to mildly inconvenience them.
Or something.
There's more of my work:
If you like short stories I have them scooped up into one category (including the six-sentence stories).
The Nervous Poet at the SSC&B can be followed here.
There is also poetry.
More personal entries can be found at the Blog.
There's also the IT studies blog in Estonian and "Chaos in Spring" on YouTube, Spotify and other streaming services.
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