A picture prompted this poem, i hope you like it.
beneath these bare fingers,
trees without the flesh of their leaves
this is the spot; the final place
with rolling mist, shrouding,
making angular shapes soft and wispery,
Underneath this water, reflecting the amber sky
with float away trees that wave silently to their twins.
This is the place,
where my ragged breath would stop,
my heart beat for the final time,
silent eyes watching me as i sink away
to lay, eyes staring upwards,
as my final breath bubbles
mark my spot
my watery grave,
in this place where i died.
Poetry by mazblondie
Read 261 times
Written on 2008-08-10 at 16:51
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
This is the place where i died
This is the place where i died,beneath these bare fingers,
trees without the flesh of their leaves
this is the spot; the final place
with rolling mist, shrouding,
making angular shapes soft and wispery,
Underneath this water, reflecting the amber sky
with float away trees that wave silently to their twins.
This is the place,
where my ragged breath would stop,
my heart beat for the final time,
silent eyes watching me as i sink away
to lay, eyes staring upwards,
as my final breath bubbles
mark my spot
my watery grave,
in this place where i died.
Poetry by mazblondie
Read 261 times
Written on 2008-08-10 at 16:51
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
