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by Logan
Rated: E · Poetry · Romance/Love · #2205782
A little slice of modern day angst channeled through William Blake
Paper Tygers

Origami tygers teem,
such jungles, cardboard, flat
In my head, my demons scheme,
conspire, with their chat

Circling round fires, folds,
I fumble without fail
Rings of flame, invite the bold
… to seize the tyger's tail

with tales caught, alluring,
intimidating games,
with memories enduring
… I've just myself to blame

Bogged down in such ardour, drawn
from way back in the day,
but simple things seem harder... torn
… the hardest things to say

with signals mixed, I've sent her, out,
received, confusion shared
Blown chances, left, right, centre... doubt
… were they ever really there?

Grounded, clipped, I call her name,
wings weathered down with tar,
and though the room seems smaller, tame
the distance seems so far

A distance hard to fathom, grasp,
even at arms reach,
such frailties, held tightly, clasped
… what lessons do they teach?

with tygers, craft of paper, folds,
so playful in their pride,
seen and viewed for later, bold,
so hard to get inside

So inviting... so unwelcome,
so intricate the folds
What damaged goods we sell them,
plated rich with our best gold,

In neon light, it scatters, swells
… at rationale's expense
and when it doesn't matter... well,
that's when it all makes sense

A sense of not belonging here,
despite feeling at home
A bright night, vibrant, longing, near
… something of my own

Left slave to folding forces,
tygers, primal, roam their space,
but wishes?... they're not horses!
… and the beggars know their place

Alone on the savannah,
neither hunter nor the prey
Laid prone, they'll never have her,
despite the best of plays

with plans so good on paper,
and stars that won't align,
as cats prance, dance, and caper
… I just wish that she were mine

Curled up happy, closer,
instead of over there
I guess I just need closure
… let the fire meet some air

Flames that you just can't ignore,
depression, doubt, desire
Wanting less, yet needing more
… the tyger lights with fire

A folded beast, a hard backed spine,
a puzzle to work out,
with paperbacks, such hunters pine,
bound up in self doubt

as origami tygers gleam,
we try to work the folds,
in cardboard jungles, poets dream,
flames climb... and passions hold
© Copyright 2019 Logan (stipey at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2205782