Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2018
There I was standing in the middle
of a mountain staring at the scorched
moon blazed with rising shadows,
fiery crimson languages howling in
the burning air, a chilled broken note
floating in faint melodies, cracked,
crumbling consonants, distorted,
unwanted, slowly fading further
out into a distant swollen shore,
drowning under a cloud of gray smoke.
Travis Green
Written by
Travis Green  30/M/Middlesex, NC
(30/M/Middlesex, NC)   
342
   Benjamin
Please log in to view and add comments on poems