Email Poem

Your IP Address: 13.59.252.174

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

I watched stars, as around me wound
the night like a shroud disturbed by wind,
and I wonder which will be first to bow,
that wretched wolf who takes moons lead,
or maiden alone with a single tear -
both swallowing dead things to live.

There is music settled on mountains, live
compositions that heal silences wound;
sutures to seal a ragged tear,
and I know this key can wind
to the point of springs break; lead
by times-arrow as it leaves God’s bow,

but should we gesticulate; bow
before this entity that only can live
while we believe. While we are lead
by fabulists words choking like vines wound
around sensibility, that ghost in the wind
bathed in a crystal tear,

and we are not planets intent to tear
through a void on ecliptic bow,
but merely motes as we wind
ever tighter, reaching for materialistic live,
even as we shed pus from putrid wound
our failure is where we are lead.

Do not follow me, do not let me lead,
I will rip faith from within without a tear,
watch your fear like ribbon un-wound
stream into oblivion and bow
to history. This, is not how we should live
like dust-devils, slaves to doctrine’s wind.

Oh sweet universe do you now wind
willfully without a fathers lead,
intent not to just exist, but to be a-live.
To reach into your soul and tear
Illusion out, string it to your bow
and loose its arrow back to that wound?

Disturbed by the wind I shroud a tear
for those who are lead to bend and bow,
trying to live through an open wound.

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required