Upon moments breath
I bury ghosts
That surrender soft
Like glimpses caught
Of past hours sweet
In tenderness sought
Your figure at
The gates in thought.
The fiery skies
Are but flaming stars
To tremble meekly
Long and scarred
In violent passion
Neatly folded
The memory
But a token.
A gesture that
Was thrown adrift
A longing
That once was kissed
Within an hour
A wretched thing
Listen closely
To everything.
-
Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: October 4th, 2026 03:08
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 52
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Teddy.15
Offline)
Comments7
Loved the combination of rhyme with short meter to set the tone of this poem. It becomes like a metronome in its ticking pulling one onward toward the end. Nicely done my friend.
thanks and appreciation for the read my friend
My pleasure Norman
Most enjoyable read my friend 🙏🏻🕊️👍🏻
A style of writing with an elegant musicality !
thanks my friend always much appreciated
Good write N.
Yes, a wretched thing, listening closely for a non-existent bus! lol. We could have walked the route by now.
There and back lol
Norman, that last invitation made me stop for a second. Sometimes there's an awful lot waiting for us when everything else finally shuts the hell up. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
true my friend, thanks and appreciation
Very fine words Norman.
Andy
thanking you much appreciated
Wonderful rhyme 🌹
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