and post notes and photos about your poem.
She was the winter and the light,
above the polar routes escape,
by gift of Gods favored and nigh
to opalescent sky's embrace.
Concealed were our late dreams, spilled wine,
and colored flags waved there alone,
ideals destined to live or die,
blue ribbons and a twilit throne.
Our chordal assonance and glow,
befallen souls' charisma lost,
how she enthralled my eighteenth ghost,
in gardens of pre-stared sorrow!
' -In bluish light, define my star,
Death's harvest calls escaped reason,
the black scythe sways near life's treason,
betimes conducts, for deathly mar. '
Destined was I, expected groom,
of lone maid's soul, and ocean's bid,
she waited in celestial room,
- when I felt the Stygian greed.
Begotten valor, proud thistle,
she traveled in betrothal themes,
her song wandered and a mistle,
fell nice on strongholds and torn dreams.