Poetry Is Dead
Wind rips her veins from a lost crumbled soul
barren in meadows grown old
fixated
a proven path
a past
watching ice melt trickle
and all as well as it was
frozen within time
from heartbeats long ago
when words tumbled
seduced
from a golden chalice
eclipsed in an elixir of the sun
running off with the shadows
humming new found melodies
love blooming in the iris
life beaming abound
it was summer
as they did say
and she was know to wake at all hours
beheld in a bosom of bard
tunes we held tight
notes repeated in sultry serenade
smokey and cool
in a jazzed up funky way
day lit and the night burned
waxing the dripping moon
beheld in bones of those who bore forbearance
caressing a candor released
in the dark fortress of forbidden
a poem perhaps or not
we were to be
perchance set free
or forth
until all eternity
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