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Open Poetry #35
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Leaden Eyes ( Rain 1:12)
| Open Poetry #35 |
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Leaden Eyes ( Rain 1:12) |
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Cpat Hair
since 2001-06-05
Posts 11793 |
When she whispered the sough of grey Upon clear blue skies Even angels fell hushed listening to hear if in her heart they would break And fall with shattered wings Or finally learn to fly Should she lift a gentler hand to hold The bottom of the sky. ................................................ She sulked along the edges where cool Met warm moist seams and Writhed as she let small strokes build in her Flashes of what was to come Should she let go and spread her dress Of bruised white to cover the eyes of sky She grew high and let the hands of wind mould her form Along the curves that turned Fair grows the breast of storm that would suckle Some wilder ride on whorl of him To leave behind such scattered flotsam as can float On strong grip of air Or the roil of flood should she come wet Again I watched her while the afternoon turned later arms Sweeping minutes into hours one today two tonight too many For her to die in some black hazed grip of sun One can not turn their eyes Or she will end her sulking pose And long…. To burn across the empty Gasping last breaths come pre-dawn dreaming all the while Of sycamore along the banks of scattered stone Where she once upon a time Sat astride the gash of bed and let herself Pull roots wide as she washed hard upon red earth In a spend of lust until it the requiem of her eyes sung leaden on lips of rage ................................................ Came then a tangled scream of roots Muffled in layers of earth Till buried sounds are silent to all But the worms That crawl slowly by such flesh As too is covered here Waiting for rains to come again And stone holds unforgiving To the hem of mantle Listening low For thunder to begin as even Angels Pause [This message has been edited by Cpat Hair (06-21-2005 05:24 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2005 Cpat Hair - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Enchantress Member Empyrean
since 2001-08-14
Posts 35113Canada eh. |
"When she whispered the sough of grey Upon clear blue skies Even angels fell hushed listening to hear if in her heart they would break And fall with shattered wings Or finally learn to fly Should she lift a gentler hand to hold The bottom of the sky." ...And then, "And stone holds unforgiving To the hem of mantle Listening low For thunder to begin as even Angels Pause" Oooh Captain! I sure needed this today... Thank you for caressing these blue pages. Hugs~N. ~Somewhere in my heart I'm always |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Wow Ron!! Amazed by this and don't quite know what to say. It's good, really good!!!  |
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Cpat Hair
since 2001-06-05
Posts 11793 |
Ms N.. your eyes and words ma'am..are always appreciated..thank you..for the kind words.and the look see.. Martie... m'friend... thank you..for always taking a look see..and letting me know you were here.. |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Everyone should do themselves a favor and read this aloud... it becomes a double treat... Thank you, Ron! |
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Cpat Hair
since 2001-06-05
Posts 11793 |
Ms Sunshine.... thank you.. aloud it does require a bit of care towards the end..lol..or one stumbles over a few places... thanks for the eyes..ms K.. and the kind words... congrats by the way... happy 25! |
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Juju Member Elite
since 2003-12-29
Posts 3429In your dreams |
I can never keep my eyes from reading your poems. I always seemed sucked in to them. -Juju |
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BluesSerenade Member Patricius
since 2001-10-23
Posts 10549By the Seaside |
Brilliant imagery and an extremely vivid undertaking into the glorious heart of rain....clearly seen through the eyes of a poet who delves so completely, so perfectly beautiful! |
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babygirlwlove Senior Member
since 2004-10-10
Posts 1180New York City |
~damn, that's niiiiice, Chief~ **baby |
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timothysangel1973
since 2001-12-03
Posts 1725Never close enough |
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littlewing Member Rara Avis
since 2003-03-02
Posts 9655New York |
Fair grows the breast of storm that would suckle Some wilder ride on whorl of him To leave behind such scattered flotsam as can float On strong grip of air Or the roil of flood should she come wet and the very end . . . actually all of it but My God . . . I feel as I would if I were actually touching the Pieta . . . see? |
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