Whispers. (Typed.) by C.J. Lightbourn

Fragment III

My requests are slimy with slurs
  and self-adjusted semantics
Perplexing,
        blurred,
    and only half-romantic.

For our maturity while grown,
  is now flung away and flown afar;
From spaces between stanzas
    informal and apart.

Perhaps not a foreshadow
    of elocutions
of any salacious nature.

Merely a Hemingwayian maneuver
borrowed in humble rambles.

      Stumbling as I swipe letters.
          Unfettered
    by inhibition.
Silly and less subdued

  of my own volition.

 

Fragment IV

Curiously
Furiously self-restrained
        by sense;
    To refrain from
      ludicrous embarrassment
stemmed
  from admissions
    or omissions
        of libidinous intent.

For lessons have been learned
        from messages ill sent;
  Under libational influence
      or insouciance
    for the consequence;

Returning to roost
        in nests of hungover dawns
of stars and minds.
        Finding naught
but awkward back steps;
Paced with regret.

 

 

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C.J. Lightbourn prefers to spend his time on this plane of existence in western Pennsylvania studying intellectual property law and writing poetry. When he isn’t working on his rubber band ball, that is.

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