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Tower

She is a salt tower, a beacon stood
On thimble cliffs and gulfs of giant steps
Swallowing her apple core and flooding
Night with a mouthful of demons
Lighting the way to perfection 
As she overshadows her own alliances

She is manipulating the tide like apron strings
She dragged along the parents like puppetry
And broke her Versailles to achieve nothing at all
Bursting into luminescence, a North Star edging
To a stable alive with arsenist whisper and 
Melancholy echoes of skipping songs and nicknames

Open eyes look, a stream of black seeping beneath
And around ivory fingers, cold penetrating to the bone
A brush stroke of hair moving with jellyfish grace
Hush. The steel womb passing over paper trails and 
Ink, a giant whale with stomach stacked full of plankton men
Searching out a siren for an Ariel but darkness brings the rocks

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 3/7/2009 3:02:00 AM
and by the way thank you for your really sweet comment... it was lovely!! made my day... :) ~ Arany
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Date: 3/7/2009 3:01:00 AM
wow your imagination is outstanding!! i do have imagination... but very limited!! :(... brits are overly complex but that is what fascinates me... my favourite brit shows 'Top gear' and 'hustle'... one about cars [that i have no interest in much... but love the way they just talk forever about them]... then the other about hustlers... its so cool how you brite come up with things hardly ever thought of!! just like your writes, Nathaniel ... so unique and fresh!! Bravo!! ~ Arany
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Date: 2/23/2009 1:28:00 AM
Great poem and nice use of imagery "Open eyes look, a stream of black seeping beneath" my favorite line. Thanks for stopping by and commenting on my work. Tyler
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things