Poem: Thirty

(For National Poetry Month I am writing a stream-of-conscious poem per day. Each poem is  a spontaneous poem single edit – could get messy!  Here is Poem #30.)

One day by one day
three decades count by
in threes and tens
and fives and sixes
from glistening hope to
bitter conclusion
one verse dripping
marks in time
one verse slipping
past my prime
one verse shaping
heart and mind
one verse ending
new one begins

A Poem is born
in the Brushing Sparks
of the Confounded
and Devoured
like an Easter feast
consumed Faster
as we Ghastly reform
withdraw to bed by Eight
fearing this Heartless
Infinity before us
I the Joker ever
dueling the Knight nightly
seeking Lovers
and Magic
long lost at 16
exiled by the Ostracized
forbidden Priestess
embedded with the Queen
of Regression

after 21
the only Strength left
is my Tongue and these
shaped like Words

here X is the spot

where I have buried Yearning
until point Zero has arrived.

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