Open Poetry #44 |
For William |
Osprey Member
since 2009-04-12
Posts 249 |
In the valley of the forging, Where march those men of tin, A sculptor moulds his men of clay, And clay their hearts within. On beds of angels' wings they sleep As children work the thread, And artists paint in oils of hope That they might raise the dead. Yet, in the wanting of the wind That stubborn' blows this vale, A hope, so true, becomes the call To hand lost boats their sail. With needles downed, to wings full-flight, The children take their bows, As angels of tomorrow's word rise up to stroke their brows. So rest, my brother, in your peace, Such cynic in your pride, And know that for your loneliness, In gentleness, I cried. |
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Alwye
Moderator
Member Elite
since 1999-06-16
Posts 3850In the space between moments |
Very nice piece. Your last 4 lines are particularly powerful. Welcome to Passions! ~*Krista Botterill*~ |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
A soft, gentle peaceful message. Welcome to Pips. Thank you for 'listening' to my 'Echo' post. |
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unboundpoetess Member
since 2008-05-24
Posts 477 |
You have penned gentle beauty on blue canvas, softly grieving. Pristine. Heather |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Welcome to Passions! Please, check your email for a Very Special Greeting! " It matters not this distance now " Excerpt, Yesterday's Love |
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