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caroline-gracePoems
A woman drew herself up from wrecked wood at the bottom of the ocean; whispered sea-songs into the wistful ear of a long lost love; shook her locks 'til his heart beat faster; looked longer than she should into the deep pools of his pleading eyes. "I will call you when I want to; I will call you when I want." Cooled his temples; breathed her watery breath as silvered beads streamed down his shocked skin.                                        ....... Rumors rock an empty drifting boat; a glazed shell faced with priceless pearl broken from its moorings, strangled by a knotted rope. "You have not chosen me, but I have chosen you" Hold fast the bestowed gift, your Quinquireme of stowed treasure. Protect its precious structure. "Who are you, the one who stripped my soul? Who is the third who stole yours?"                                             ......... Broken from netting I lie a beached starfish on burning sand, wishing the waves to wash me back through Time's receding current to find the silence that once was; to turn away before the sacrifice, before the Eye of the storm. copyright © Caroline Grace 2010
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May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 2:05 AM UTC
The Eye of the storm
A woman drew herself up from wrecked wood at the bottom of the ocean; whispered sea-songs into the wistful ear of a long lost love; shook her locks 'til his heart beat faster; looked longer than she should into the deep pools of his pleading eyes. "I will call you when I want to; I will call you when I want." Cooled his temples; breathed her watery breath as silvered beads streamed down his shocked skin.                                        ....... Rumors rock an empty drifting boat; a glazed shell faced with priceless pearl broken from its moorings, strangled by a knotted rope. "You have not chosen me, but I have chosen you" Hold fast the bestowed gift, your Quinquireme of stowed treasure. Protect its precious structure. "Who are you, the one who stripped my soul? Who is the third who stole yours?"                                             ......... Broken from netting I lie a beached starfish on burning sand, wishing the waves to wash me back through Time's receding current to find the silence that once was; to turn away before the sacrifice, before the Eye of the storm. copyright © Caroline Grace 2010
Written by
caroline-grace
English
May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 2:05 AM UTC
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