forget the outer air
that gathered as horses tread light,
lost to vanished ships,
all heart cast off as blossom fallen,
stammering voices lift over clearing
to an eagles satisfied self,
down in the orchards,
bird ghosts eat berries,
with wisdom and wildflower alchemy
she who has cold tears
and heart louder than thunder,
faced of washed stone
spoke with a low voice,
words lifted pain excising with precision
poison extracted no gauze to cover,
his tremors would be related in long
writing of a notebook,
where his heartfelts are mentioned in
great detail,
no crimson match could set it on fire,
only if she abandoned him
but first he was cleansed,
washing away remnants in rolling brook
her teeth showed on each shoulder,
memory thick as ink
went past the length of what tomorrow
would bring,
this would be written well,
loin and flank had ripeness of sacrifice,
hues of the soul
left him as a scattered person
for her to pick up from the rug of the
earth,
in that methodical way,
complete again would be left there
automatic and ageless,
a life for her to own
and to kiss as if of steel.
I felt the darkness in this poem…a strong write with lots of effective images such as this one:
“hues of the soul
left him as a scattered person
for her to pick up from the rug of the
earth,”
Nice write!
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Great lines…this would be written well,
loin and flank had ripeness of sacrifice,
hues of the soul
left him as a scattered person
for her to pick up from the rug of the
earth,
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oy. have felt the breaking before and being scattered…i like the touch of steel there in the end…made me think of iron sharpening iron, which is not always comfortable…also like the writing of the notebook as well gathering the thoughts and emotions…it made me attach to the story and made it more alive for me…
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Thank you Brian i am glad it reached you and all the best
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