I hear the Call of the Trumpet..
In my waking thoughts.. a music
that draws me in.. soaking me in its fiery embrace
like liquid magma, I drown in the hotness
I fear for my kin, my kind, my race
my generation, our disdain for truth and sanctity we abuse,
not ready to bow to GOD, and follow sanity
Death knells sounds near; a song, in its wake.
liquid voices, running rhythms, flowing chants
from the embryo, a locking of glances - look askance, the eyes stare
in red-hot moon and cold-bluish sun, imagery meets realism
and fact undresses truth.
Pause for a moment for soft
breathed hopes,an interlude
of words in embryo,a covering
now revealed ,an insight into
the rhythm of life.
This insight ,this impression echos
of imagination,perhaps a literary
treasure,contemporary,accented
in verse,sounds with silences
voiced aloud.I leave now in your ear.
hear me recite my PS anthology on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro..
catch my short forms @strandpoet on twitter...
and read my poetiry kindle ebooks on amazon