Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2010
Let
some solace
come
from the fire
and brimstone
rampant
in my soul.

Let
a soft and gentle
lyre
transform
the black clouds
permeating
my mind
with
condemnation
and gloom.

Let
the rivers
bursting
the banks
of  my heart
subside
and flow
to a tranquil
ocean.
Written by
john oconnell
569
   ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems