Storms and Stillness
Who are you when the mask has lost its stitches
How could the cost of the sun be so little
Vultures and ravens surround the sound of cultures and havens
Utopia turns to dystopia
The skies face turns so sad
As it's clouds cry out for bad
omen meticulously woven
Gloom doom monsoon
Elements bloom
Within landscapes
The rain will pour soon
Fresh gale cleanses this lonely spirit
Wet knees engraved into warm soil next to a broken ricket
Darkest before the dawn
Brightest before the storm
Voluntarily blind unkind rewind the clocks back to a bleaker time
Black room
More like a tomb
Resting in a dead womb
Conceived deceived
Plant a seed
And then bleed
Please no more weeds
Laying upon empty leaves
From autumn to winter frosts
When all is lost
A tear from a rose lightly cascading onto cold toes
My face so soft
In this place of frost
Breathing as if it's my last breath
Leaving as if it's my last step
Away from these hallowed sounds
Away from the battleground
Copyright © Matthew Webb | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment