Below is the poem entitled Plucked Raven Feather which was written by poet
Breidenthal. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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Sprays of thought swing us back to the art you have carved
Rejuvenating sentiments, reveling correction into acceptance
Straight to the supernova galaxy’s romance
A place where we can shape with our very fingers
The atlas of passionate, curious fraught
That is loosened by the very sand heaved by the waves
Dawned by the nights rejected,
We implore upon the Venus blinding our envisioning
Never once tearing away the organs with fabricated poisons
He is a calm wave all but surfaced to destroy
Pulled among tides of extravagant luster mustered into lust
With persistence of a tempest pulling dissensions of waste
And sharp as the tip of the plucked raven feather
My eyes open to his illumination
To show just how dull my own lighting has been all the while!
I want to read him like a book
But as he paragraphs line after line
Wordless after word,
I am reduced to the tired tears of unexplained mawkishness
I think I am falling for this deity,
Yet worlds of expectancy veer me away from the courses of delight
Somehow the waves of his calm spoke to me
And under the tier of the calm,
Is a flail of tension accustomed to an almost doubtful reconciliation
I finally understand
There is a viral hope that is both maddening and sweet
Like the sufferers rot for sufferers to come
A seed is planted and laid to rest for other generations
Under the layers never peeled
Under the very sands of his life
He indicates nothing but the illusion of hint
And pours forth a wisdom I have known all but none
All time would have to persevere
Because this fight for Venus’s light cannot be clearer
When all the doubt is dispatched from its shadowy domain
Into pure exposure; it reveals all but nothing!
Fear does not exist in his rays!
He is a sea of comfort sailing with the very putative storm I ache for!
Never asking for the shipwreck of my desire to be salvaged
Taking nothing from me, but giving all
And the beaked heaven flies on, letting me have his feather
The pulse of his wings electrifying my fingertips
I held on that split moment with excitement
Feeling his texture overhead
Like a flower pulled from the ground
Like the tip of Venus has dulled for the sake of my light...