Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
My early sea town home came With strides of colossal change floating between The marrow of my bones; gnawing inside. Chance always showed me where to go Landing near deep, blue-green waves That washed the soft slumber from my eyes. Perlious seas to cover the silence of a murmurous beauty Pouring into the Colombia Gorge that flows a horizen-line Against the rim of peaceful strangeness in the city. Darkening dusk hovered in the wide quietness Of Forest Park with lanterns lit along the west coast while I counted the spaces of plum-colored stars. There I went running on the hills through the virescent woods Of tall evergreen trees dripping wanton rain into the hollows of a wet earth. Dressed in ghost-white like a wayward drifter. Night, emitted a warmth of drunken red wine With tireless voices laugh shaken to beats of ethereal music. Departure struck me with sudden change to a new home. Ripped away and fixed in the belief of happenstance. Always to remember the feeling of being young On this cold night in Oregon.
0
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC
Happenstance
My early sea town home came With strides of colossal change floating between The marrow of my bones; gnawing inside. Chance always showed me where to go Landing near deep, blue-green waves That washed the soft slumber from my eyes. Perlious seas to cover the silence of a murmurous beauty Pouring into the Colombia Gorge that flows a horizen-line Against the rim of peaceful strangeness in the city. Darkening dusk hovered in the wide quietness Of Forest Park with lanterns lit along the west coast while I counted the spaces of plum-colored stars. There I went running on the hills through the virescent woods Of tall evergreen trees dripping wanton rain into the hollows of a wet earth. Dressed in ghost-white like a wayward drifter. Night, emitted a warmth of drunken red wine With tireless voices laugh shaken to beats of ethereal music. Departure struck me with sudden change to a new home. Ripped away and fixed in the belief of happenstance. Always to remember the feeling of being young On this cold night in Oregon.
kara-troglin
Written by
American
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem