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ddscottPoems
Casting waves of pure lore To line the yielding lips A heart of splinters like the crown of thorn Chasing the shade of an eclipse Shirt drawn open, pulling smoke Staggered to the racing strait Tilted head as he spoke Prose of prayer to the landscape Pleading to follow the saints Plunging to kneel like a ribbon to gravity Make him in canvass and paint Trace him in the chasm of apathy As the horizon peaks and pales He's dizzy with indigo fumes Abides home by the formidable trail And cursing the mirthless tune
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May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
The Boy Who Named The Moon
Casting waves of pure lore To line the yielding lips A heart of splinters like the crown of thorn Chasing the shade of an eclipse Shirt drawn open, pulling smoke Staggered to the racing strait Tilted head as he spoke Prose of prayer to the landscape Pleading to follow the saints Plunging to kneel like a ribbon to gravity Make him in canvass and paint Trace him in the chasm of apathy As the horizon peaks and pales He's dizzy with indigo fumes Abides home by the formidable trail And cursing the mirthless tune
I don't think I've ever wrote a poem with a rhyme scheme. I usually hate them. But this just kind of flowed out and each line lent itself to the next. Thanks for reading.
#religion#nature#wonder#rhyme#night#lonely#change#life#god#uncertainty#remorse#insanity
ddscott
Written by
ddscott
American
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 3:14 PM UTC
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