Elemental
Sometimes the wind blowsa circular gale that batters
at the doors and the flap
where secrets are delivered
begins the ghostly tap, tap, tap;
as twisting sheets send creases
and all are braced with
ears hidden, hiding deep inside.
Sometimes the hail hits,
sounds of mice and bats
scattering in amongst the eaves
and then a cacophony of sound,
music playing an accompaniment
I play and play until my fingers are sore
and I have an orchestra
with the wind blowing, the
tapping of the secret flap
and hail skittering on mice trails,
bat wings flapping as my heartstrings
keep the melody of lost ones
and ghostly clothes that flutter
the place where dreams are opaque
and fingertips gently brace
and trace the moonlight tears
that lighten all with grace.
Sometimes, only sometimes
when the memories release
and the elements are more
than just a midnight feeling
on a lonely night, when the music
plays and no one is there
just heaven sounds and the shrill
of a chorus, that joins a little late
but always so wanted,
as below the mist
I see mystery footprints
of mine and yours and all and everyone,
I dance with ghosts and sing with spirits,
the wind rips through me,
I am elemental, a finger of fire
that no one can extinguish.
Poetry by Elle
Read 723 times
Written on 2015-02-22 at 11:12
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
|
|
Chaucer Whethers |
| Texts |
 by Elle Latest textsTwo Little CatsHills Not the End Cinders Oh perfect Day |
Increase font
Decrease