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Dark Poetry #3

Rainmaker

Immortal Beloved
Junior Member

since 2001-10-17

Posts 42
the carpathians

0 posted 2001-11-11 10:43 PM

Icicles on barbed wire,
Sweet oblivion,feels alright.
In a soft stiffled stone room
With a heavy hard incense-
Through the air.
Mad,but kind blue eyes.

Polishing the brass,
Shining the ring
And when he handed it back,
I slid it onto my finger
And it warmed my hand,
Hot with polishing stone.

He built his palace
in the backyard,beside a bridge-
beneath bravely stretched trees
and the vines scream his genius
and the stones moan his mortality
and i cry for it all.

I wonder what touched him,
How he invented these things
And why their inspiration burns
From out his eyes,
Brightly,insanely,incredibly.
This is rainmaker.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
about a brass artist i met in a small but amazingly cultural town once,his work was ingenius,and the experience has stayed with me always

Fere libenter homines id quod volunt credunt~Julius Caesar

SEA

Moderator

Member Seraphic

since 2000-01-18

Posts 22676
with you

1 posted 2001-11-12 12:45 PM

I like the way you wrote this

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