Calm.
Cup the forlorn words.
Trap it within those butterfly wings.
Let it fly,
so those rose skies partner
what vindictive blood spills,
and see it ride with the horses.
Lay the beach and many grains.
Washed away with its pain,
and beautiful like that butterfly.
Landing with content,
the wind cries its colour,
and fustian lavender praises
the second beat of wings.
Now four wings dance; flutter,
kiss and breathlessly mutter
no forlorn words.
Poetry by John Ashleigh
Read 918 times
Written on 2006-09-13 at 14:53
Tags Calm 
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
|
keith nunes |
Kathy Lockhart |
Zoya Zaidi |
Texts |
by John Ashleigh Latest textsDesignDylan. In between love. Transcend. Fingertips. My favoritesNightlightPhoenix Seulement One Week from Tomorrow. Betrayed |
Increase font
Decrease