Clouds

There are clouds that pass
even on the brightest days
when dreams are whipped
like strands of hair
slashing at your face
the sting of unshed tears
and oh that heavy weight of pain
as an inner soul bends
gut wrenching that all
you can do is capitulate
as agony engulfs,
breath is a torture
thoughts fly unfettered and free
that you so long to flee
return watch the white butterfly
float, buffeted by a breeze,
just to rise from the dead
leave the corpse of you behind
lying in that antiseptic room
its lingering aroma haunting.
You want to taste the sea
inhale that scent of salt,
roll it over your tongue,
Imbibe of the earth
fresh mown grass,
the fragile one day bloom.
You are that chignon
each pin removed.

Whisper

I am apple to your blossom
that autumn wail
as leaves collect in corners
to be swept, disintegrating
their veins like skeletons
left too long in sun to bleach.

Oh to be a cloud that passes
on a still, unblemished sky.





Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 353 times
Written on 2017-03-04 at 19:27

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jim The PoetBay support member heart!
You write of elusive, yearning emotions with such subtlety and grace. This is poignant. It takes me to a place that feels just out of reach, to some better, perfect state of being, going from the antiseptic room to:

You want to taste the sea
inhale that scent of salt,
roll it over your tongue,
Imbibe of the earth
fresh mown grass,
the fragile one day bloom.

Just beautiful, and a little heartbreaking.
2017-03-05


Christopher Fernie
The thing I love about your intimate work is that it is not just about you: no, you say something about us all in your own sensitive and sensual style which I regard as Romantic English
Translated From The French!

Bravo!

Chris
2017-03-05


shells
I found this so emotional, it really resonated with me. It is so beautifully crafted, those lines " you are that chignon each pin removed" is genius.
2017-03-04