Hollow Hearts
The wind blows a hollow soundlike the echoes of a heart.
Sand is blown, kicked up
forming sleep in the corners of your eyes.
It is a barren landscape lost in winter
and the sea is a surging drum roll
throwing up debris for a drifter to find.
The white horses pound the shore,
lost from their Spanish fleets of long ago,
frantically swimming, their ghostly coats
and flared nostrils etched in panic as
they never find firm ground, just
tormented souls in a writhing sea.
A sailor whistles, as a lamp is swung
a guiding light that leads only
to the rocks that smash and break
so all that is left is the contraband,
washed up with the foam that leaves
a beer mark upon the white sands.
while a smuggler takes as loot and barters
in the cellars of underground caves.
Can you not hear the wind?
She blows, a screaming, wailing banshee
"This way" she shouts, buffeting bodies
"This way, is the only way"
and you sink to your knees, regardless of faith
your map, your life – is just a meaningless blunder
it's only the foolhardy, that cry and pray.
The wind blows hollow in your heart today.
Poetry by Elle
Read 788 times
Written on 2015-06-04 at 20:38
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Lawrence Beck |
|
Jamsbo Rockda |
|
|
|
Chaucer Whethers |
| Texts |
 by Elle Latest textsTwo Little CatsHills Not the End Cinders Oh perfect Day |
Increase font
Decrease