Ala' Poe
It was late in the year the last stage of some play
When the world spun through fear, confusion dismay
We were looking to Heaven while our hearts felt this Hell
Between sixes and sevens at loss for thoughts, for a spell
There were people in towers signing rivers of miserable blood
Exercising the powers of being (clever) as though they understood
Here I am holding a promise of billowed sails with tars for pitch
Watching the waters pattern into banks of waves with random aspectÂ
Expecting the storm to roar from an invisible gods throatÂ
When all the hopes and promises broke leaving nowhere left to float
A ghost date time is near just the age and the day
It was late in the year the last page of the play.
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2013-11-19 at 23:52
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Last Stage
It was late in the year the last stage of some play
When the world spun through fear, confusion dismay
We were looking to Heaven while our hearts felt this Hell
Between sixes and sevens at loss for thoughts, for a spell
There were people in towers signing rivers of miserable blood
Exercising the powers of being (clever) as though they understood
Here I am holding a promise of billowed sails with tars for pitch
Watching the waters pattern into banks of waves with random aspectÂ
Expecting the storm to roar from an invisible gods throatÂ
When all the hopes and promises broke leaving nowhere left to float
A ghost date time is near just the age and the day
It was late in the year the last page of the play.
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 1204 times
Written on 2013-11-19 at 23:52
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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