- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Coffee Clouds at Dawn
Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click hereAt the end of the conversation
words have only letters,
morphemes measure bites of breath,
chewing air like storm.
Sounds erode space, form glyphs
from nonsense dripped from lips,
washing markers of time in dead language
I can’t read. The derivation is mysterious
as Sanskrit. There must be bits of truth
caught between these teeth of obscurity.
At the end of the conversation
sleep drops its veil in marginal night,
dreaming yields small comfort.
What is touch when it has no depth,
no texture, the absence of reason closing
its eyes against an ignorant clash of questions,
succumbing to time in fading minutes.
We blanket detachment with hours
till dawn shades consciousness doubt gray,
dread stirring its cups, steaming coffee
deep with impenetrable sustenance.
- COMMENTS
LeBrozabout 17 years agoThis poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 35,000 poems.
----------
LeBrozabout 17 years agoMyriad images float through here but none's more recognizable than that of the morning coffee revival.
fawniealmost 20 years agoi have an ongoing joke with lady friends..stimulate my brain, then my clit! most laugh with uneasiness.
sometimes i think i crave a depth that isn't even real, then i read this and know normal or freak, i'm not the only one who gets it.
this was beautiful, i really feel when i read your words, i suppose that's the best part of poetry..it reaches in and touches what is hidden.
very nice!
YDDalmost 20 years agoAnother poem that deserves a purely poetic forum.
At least you are raising the standard around here.
Thank you for sharing it,
Does "dead language" want either an "a" or an "s" ?
annaswirlsalmost 20 years ago"There must be bits of truth
caught between these teeth of obscurity."
You tear into such ethereal characters with such concrete images and words, DAMN you are good. This whole poem was just line after line of quotables. I am gushing as if you are my daughter at Poetry night and I am so proud I just want to talk about your poem all the way home in the car.
