Poetry Forum
For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!
12/11/2015 5:22:26 AM
Terry Robinson Posts: 49
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The sun's beams penetrate me, with fingers delving deeply beneath the blanket of my surface
And the clouds rise up, as bitter as the moon eclipsed sun, only to fall back to earth, with life on the coat-tails of every drop
On these benign waters rest the swimmers, whose hearts I hear pitch the perfect beat and whose skins I caress like a lovers breast; encasing them in champagne bubbles.
Yet, they ravage me, savage me. Narcissists seeking the elusive liquors of promised bounty
And, though I envelop the rocks at the edge of man's domain, I hold from him the abyssal depths; sparing him from his frailties, and hiding from him my vanities
The rivers are my children, so easily breached by the lifeless, upturned fibrous husks of an acorns bed. David to my Goliath, making fools of all my tributaries.
The seagulls flying above me, sing their homages, draining away my windswept salt from the purpose drilled holes in their beaks. Like so much brine ejected from salt-encrusted lakes
And, like the harbinger of bad news, the moon's tides recede within me like elasticated yawns, revealing the lost souls of battles ancient; illuminating elysium's reflected glory upon the silvery face of my Lunar mirrored watch
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