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Open Poetry #28
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Stolen
| Open Poetry #28 |
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Stolen |
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IndigoEve Member
since 2003-01-10
Posts 279Etched in the illusion of time 
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like a nightmare's silken terror burn some leave a trail of bloody lies footprints painted of heavy brushstrokes red ashes black and gray and mottled love these are my last remains charred but still smelling of that incensed tragic fury rage is a fearful song heard by the shivering nightfall dawn to dusk and dusk to dawn lips parted eyes aghast only I can feel the tremor rocking like a fevered lullaby children softly take to their pillows and I oh I the one who bottles pride and gives it away as sweet, sweet penance remains still. cowering, waiting, I anticipate know, feel the arrival tasting the scent of dread prolonged through stolen dreams dancing dancing dancing in the fields of a moonlit day O the tragedy! O you spineless thing I call sleep why not come to me now and soothe this terror or shall I softly wait? For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, |
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
I know this moment well. Beautifully and poignantly crafted. |
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