Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2012
There was time in a way
to be had by me,
For the hands
fell far back
In the wake
of bright fires,
And a face we found
frozen underneath the tree.

Though sands blew up-wind,
round about they agreed
To create broken castles
In an age of
reflection;
Just as well
this will pass in
the mouth of the sea.

Ever there were an escape
from the mouth of the sea
Winged Angels would swallow
the souls of
the many,
And many
and many will be in
darkness before they see.

Now the dust that
will settle on bodies
around me,
Like the dirt
encasing the dead of
my fathers, Will rise again
by a name with the
bitter sting of jealousy

From the mouth of the sea
Old Ones, The sea
Michael DePasquale
Written by
Michael DePasquale  New York
(New York)   
534
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems