Late Night Poetry #1


The pendulum swings,
Grey darkness in the hallway –
Remains of the day strewn on the table,
I am the steady pulse of my blood.

My skin is too hot,
My mind too full of everything.
Ears are ringing, in time with the words –
As I try to dig these things from within.

The days narrow into a tunnel,
Become this small moment in time.
Who am I, if not these words, these meanings?
The world carries on its spinning.

Times like this, in the grey darkness,
I fall away from myself –
With the pendulum swinging,
And blood pulsing against unwritten words.

5 Comments Add yours

  1. I knew it from the first stanza this was amazing. I’m gonna copy it down in my commonplace book. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Liz Ward says:

      I’m glad it inspired you, and thank you for your kind words 💜

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Chelsea says:

    I love this so much, the imagery is unreal!!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Liz Ward says:

      Thank you, I’m glad you liked it!


  3. Saloni says:

    So effortlessly precise. I could relate with the feeling of ‘unwritten words’.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

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

You are commenting using your 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 )

Google+ photo

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

Connecting to %s