Big Ben Is Set Free
Stone hands slide across wooden faces,
With a timeless intention,
Of man’s damnation,
To glimpse at a movement,
Searching for salvation,
We stand in lashing winds,
Of spoken rage,
And caress the moment,
Before,
The wheat grain,
Slips,
Away,
And desperate housewives,
Transmute into schizophrenic princesses,
Waltzing through a ballroom palace,
Stone hands capture each breath,
And inside glass bottles,
They chime,
Then fall on disciples,
Time stops,
Life,
Dies…
Copyright © Joplin Sell | Year Posted 2005
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment