avatarDaniel A. Teo

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Abstract

e vegas dreams claiming they can see the Amsterdam stars from here but only feeling the pagans of the stagnant stream The kids ignore me and only know Shakespeare</p><p id="adac">Editors no longer pick out the draft from poetry Thursdays the newsletter stops in its track, a mud of historical artifact Only I can feel the feathers that the rituals weigh shedding its skin further away from the respiratory tract</p><p id="fa5a">I ought to rub the palm against the period, hoping for a semi-colon down the corners of dirty sin and dark alleys Where they hurry pages and go blind toward the literacy stolen thinking only the console can grow the lavender lilies of the valley</p><p id="d201">But when they bury their tiny bottles of shit wine, stench blessings should they wonder of the poet and his shelf of untouched gem There were nine synonyms of the word <i>missing</i> and unfortunately, I was every one of them.</p><p id="5914"><a href="undefined">Daniel A. Teo</a> 2021</p><p id="828b">Thank you for reading. Much gratitude also to <a href="undefined">Viraji Ogodapola</a> who initially tagged me on this prompt and had me wreck my brain to think of something to pen down. This is for her… hope I didn't let her down !!!</p><p id="e607">check out hers:</p><div id="a89b" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/in-the-making-22a8566c7994"> <div> <div> <h2>In the making…</h2> <div><h3>from a distance</h3></div>

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<div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*E-6Vh0Pb9EhKLmIZcQJJzQ.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="462f">and the original prompt hosted by <a href="undefined">Priyanka Srivastava</a> :</p><div id="f0c4" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/andoumboulou-and-vorfreude-cff289c8b331"> <div> <div> <h2>Andoumboulou and Vorfreude.</h2> <div><h3>stories hidden in words and new pages waiting to be inked</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*qiavDZofDFrgUc4_djrhpA.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="c555">I would also like to tag some of my favorite writers to try this prompt out, only if convenient of course :)</p><p id="6d06"><a href="undefined">Amy Marley</a> //<a href="undefined">Joseph Lieungh</a>// <a href="undefined">Cocoa Griot</a>// <a href="undefined">kurt gasbarra</a> //<a href="undefined">J.D. Harms</a> // <a href="undefined">Dennett</a> // <a href="undefined">Joanna Vang</a> // and those interested !</p><p id="fa08">Once again, Thank you for reading and Stay happy and healthy,</p><p id="1144">Daniel</p></article></body>

A response to Andoumboulou and Vorfreude

The Last Poet

A Poem

Photo by Sharad Bhat on Unsplash

“stories hidden in words and new pages waiting to be inked”

The eye of the wave glances at me looking through the brush of the plane mirror Unblemished draft and the dusty road flee chiming the arched back to see ravens falling clearer

I’ve challenged the thoughts of the lonely colors on the palette oft mused by the tear of the melancholy poet The shelf loads onto the overgrown weed and tulip forced to hear ground rhythms that breed through by the second

Soon enough I won't be able to think of anything nor can the pen anticipate the worshipping of the faux cursive When the ink continues to smudge till it ends in an absence of the ring the next chapter longs to look the same

My page suddenly erased by the image and taken aback by the promise the colors permanently cease to exist Only finding the carvings dated by the glove of the lost mistress maybe poetry will end here without the twists

The chair rocks harder this time, lost in the vegas dreams claiming they can see the Amsterdam stars from here but only feeling the pagans of the stagnant stream The kids ignore me and only know Shakespeare

Editors no longer pick out the draft from poetry Thursdays the newsletter stops in its track, a mud of historical artifact Only I can feel the feathers that the rituals weigh shedding its skin further away from the respiratory tract

I ought to rub the palm against the period, hoping for a semi-colon down the corners of dirty sin and dark alleys Where they hurry pages and go blind toward the literacy stolen thinking only the console can grow the lavender lilies of the valley

But when they bury their tiny bottles of shit wine, stench blessings should they wonder of the poet and his shelf of untouched gem There were nine synonyms of the word missing and unfortunately, I was every one of them.

Daniel A. Teo 2021

Thank you for reading. Much gratitude also to Viraji Ogodapola who initially tagged me on this prompt and had me wreck my brain to think of something to pen down. This is for her… hope I didn't let her down !!!

check out hers:

and the original prompt hosted by Priyanka Srivastava :

I would also like to tag some of my favorite writers to try this prompt out, only if convenient of course :)

Amy Marley //Joseph Lieungh// Cocoa Griot// kurt gasbarra //J.D. Harms // Dennett // Joanna Vang // and those interested !

Once again, Thank you for reading and Stay happy and healthy,

Daniel

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