by Harry

Submitted by Ndabenhle S. Mthembu


Suckling on the pen’man’s

fingertips, as the ink drips down

Down, as it seeps between the

blank spaces



Upturning topsy-turvy

into the

topvy tursy of tectonic

shudders, being peeled off

like ceramic skin.

We scale the mounting

sands as they slip from

every grasp and we fall back.

And fall back

upon the sun-soaked sands.

If you enjoyed the poem. please leave a comment.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: