Dear ribbons of waterflame,
gold, green and blue
swathes itself around my palms,
becoming
a ball of radiant waters that floats in
cupped hands and at the thought of
love, it buds and curls like a lily's
petal
and
the years of hushed times
eat at my very soul, nulling
deafening me to the music
of the mint-dark sky,
of the flame-thorn sun
of the bone-white stars
My feet are kissed by the
star-studded shores, washing,
relieving the
fragments of my shattered
past
I keep the shell of my hope
shielded
in my ***** near the heart
My eyes dancing zultanites
With my gaze on the horizon
rise the clouds of trouble
How long will I plan to thrive
when I am but a shrinking violet
cold, iced with scorn
but
I am the Mistress of Waterflame
Daughter of the Mers
and
Scion of the Dragon Line
So blood will bend and billow
like flowers
So fits the one of the skies and sea
An expert who delivers in
the trade of
death
But the hope in my ***** pulses
As my bloodlust evulses
As I dream of the warmth that will soothe my weary
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 4:27 PM UTC
Dear ribbons of waterflame,
gold, green and blue
swathes itself around my palms,
becoming
a ball of radiant waters that floats in
cupped hands and at the thought of
love, it buds and curls like a lily's
petal
and
the years of hushed times
eat at my very soul, nulling
deafening me to the music
of the mint-dark sky,
of the flame-thorn sun
of the bone-white stars
My feet are kissed by the
star-studded shores, washing,
relieving the
fragments of my shattered
past
I keep the shell of my hope
shielded
in my ***** near the heart
My eyes dancing zultanites
With my gaze on the horizon
rise the clouds of trouble
How long will I plan to thrive
when I am but a shrinking violet
cold, iced with scorn
but
I am the Mistress of Waterflame
Daughter of the Mers
and
Scion of the Dragon Line
So blood will bend and billow
like flowers
So fits the one of the skies and sea
An expert who delivers in
the trade of
death
But the hope in my ***** pulses
As my bloodlust evulses
As I dream of the warmth that will soothe my weary
This poem is basically a continuation of my old poem 'Drift'
'Whispers' speaks to me.
It's a statement, a proud affirmation that I'm not ashamed to have my head in the clouds.
For the world is too harsh...
© Whispers by Lyn-Purcell
Be back soon
Lyn x
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