The inventor of the golden quill.
Floating inside a myriad of dreams.
They call me obsidian November,
Although I cannot remember.
Why they gave me that name;
Born before the age of man.
For a reason I can't explain.
I am the one you think you see,
From the corner of minds eye.
The ghost you thought you've seen,
That invades your waking dreams.
The one never found always sought.
Living on a eathrall plane,
Of a once forgotten thought.
I am the one that's everyone Blames,
when things go right or wrong.
I am the Devil and the God of old,
A sirens song a mermaids kiss:
A monkey's paw a warlocks mane.
Though you won't remember this,
Obsidian November is my name.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 125 times
Written on 2024-06-18 at 00:17
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OBSIDIAN NOVEMBER
I was born like a gentle kiss,Floating inside a myriad of dreams.
They call me obsidian November,
Although I cannot remember.
Why they gave me that name;
Born before the age of man.
For a reason I can't explain.
I am the one you think you see,
From the corner of minds eye.
The ghost you thought you've seen,
That invades your waking dreams.
The one never found always sought.
Living on a eathrall plane,
Of a once forgotten thought.
I am the one that's everyone Blames,
when things go right or wrong.
I am the Devil and the God of old,
A sirens song a mermaids kiss:
A monkey's paw a warlocks mane.
Though you won't remember this,
Obsidian November is my name.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 125 times
Written on 2024-06-18 at 00:17
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Uncle Meridian |
