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Open Poetry #35

Something Nicer

DavePage
Member Elite

since 2003-12-21

Posts 2917

0 posted 2005-04-11 01:24 PM

Wind was moving in the trees caressing Sun with a breeze gently moving overhead listening to words that thread amongst a gentle afternoon quietly moving into tune of an evening often bassoon but harp decorated in

As bodies break from the straights dancing until stays will break on a quite image of grace where words often said as 'grace'

Honouring a woman must misplaced
Who decorating life

With Grace

As sacrificial dressed to the nines
Forced into season in their time
Matched and bred as if the pen
Had broken open
Mayhem began

With the open pen that spread and words spread until the dread of ink blushes a small sink stained by innermost thoughts and fears that have fuelled so many years and blighted others into tears as echoing the words of fear

You give the gateway to the one you have kept

Dear

Sunshine

Administrator

Member Empyrean

since 1999-06-25

Posts 63354
Listening to every heart