The Silk Insoles
The funereal frownThe wedding gown
all worn much too soon
with an ancestral wound
torn open unbound
blaring mute an astral scream
awakened ghosts of a dream
forbidden things to write about
the past is dead without a doubt;
the silk insoles
the fumaroles
explosion/escape from prisons of the mind
Soul walks free from infamy and pain
the woods are full of silence talk to trees
and stones shall rise to smite the skies
offense, wonder at the sense
and senselessness of all forgone
Alone, I come to you in part and in full
The pull of Earth is old and fraught
We all get caught in time early enough too late to find
All the way up to down
The Funereal frown
The wedding gown
explosion/escape from prisons of the mind...
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 984 times
Written on 2014-06-05 at 18:08
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text