A phantom in cold flesh and blood - this frail body, a stranger to my soul; thousand feet under a bottomless void, there is no remedy to make me whole.
Tag: poem
Dreams Once Bright | Poetry
How evocative was each dream of old where memory and vision would raise painted tribute to each fantastical lore as I had imagined in the olden days.
The Perfect Leaf | Poetry
I keep an eye out for the perfect leaf among the gilded ground; nature’s raiment, worn to perfection, radiates beauty all around.
A Not So Fond Farewell
The dark undertone of this poem is in accordance with one of the most significant events in my life. Since the beginning of this year, I haven't been the same. Please bear with me as I process this inexplicable sadness and flush out my grieving thoughts through writing. Blessings. ********************* A Not So Fond Farewell… Continue reading A Not So Fond Farewell
Summer Rain | Poetry
The weather-beaten trees leaned over, earthy scents rose from the ground; we confessed our love for summer rain - the flourishing green 'n' tinkling sound.
A Manor on the Moors | Spillwords
Nestled between green rolling hills, exposed to the ire of howling gales, rises the desolate manor house surrounded by bare and barren dales.
My Least Favorite Star
In dreams, I fall through pleasing stars there thrives no tragic gloom; and then when daylight fades the night I hear chilling cries of doom.
Moon Magic
When the evening sky is stained with red, and the sun disappears behind the clouds, drawing her chariot across the eastern sky glints an opaque moon in a pearly shroud.
The Little Star Thief
Stars, low light, frail kindly light pinned to the dark fabric of the night embroidered with yarns of silvery thread in celestial patterns twinkling o'erhead. Some playful fingers set them stray, each loosened star drifts miles away; white streaks of light flare up and 'round, bright glinting stars come falling down. I wonder wherein lie… Continue reading The Little Star Thief
A Dark Snowy Encounter
The ice slates are perilous, the icicles keen, chilling blasts of snow now cloud the scene, the woeful world robbed of all things green, speaking in whispers, what did she mean?
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