In the wake of the sun's demise,
I've heard a voice a pleasant rustle;
from above it shook my center,
I didn't know from where to enter;
sudden spirals appear and entice,
egregiously surmise what I realize;
tender the tone of her whisper,
dispersing a hello a tongue twister;
her being floating through time and space,
never-mind it isn't the human race;
bulging depth of my eye's silhouette,
reciting an allegory with my last breath;
I shout and tremble over the horizon,
dignified I thought the cape of a bison;
a feather stuck inside my heart,
it flew and grew metastasizing the art;
of self reflection and painful visions,
she didn't know if it was given;
I threw my essence on the ground,
she didn't care if it was found;
found and lost a paradoxical state,
she couldn't see nor relate;
bestowed upon my deepest sorrows,
luminescence of charm and it follows;
it erupted inside our fragile minds,
a volcano filled with lost souls;
the gravedigger cementing the holes.
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Author:
NordicFrost (
Offline) - Published: February 4th, 2019 15:05
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: sylviasearcher, Nafis Light.
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Comments3
Nice
very nice rhyme scheme you have going on here....love this one.
A powerful journey through hope and death of hope. Well that’s where it took me.
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