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DBeardPoems
From thigh to eye the wind whistles your name The echoes collide, Inside. I think I feel the same again, a distant voice, A broken wheel; sharp glass gloves and a clenched hand holds nothing For you to know me. Still. The urge to tame That which is seldom glimpsed by what right is that by man alone by night; a quivering pulse Untainted since a moment when I too, held someone tight. Too late to stall An hourglass bears the name grain by grain its fleeting Too slow to move, To re-direct a moment’s peace; I call your name each time I’m breathing. Some secret place A shelter from the storm a place unknown to me Beyond this haven; a miniature maelstrom Return (again) to reflect on what could have been. Now I Am Slowly dying; These moments maybe lost forever. A whispers tears in stealth marks a sullen face. In memory, drifting aimless, still, I call out your name; the space the echo fills is left speechless and misplaced. What spurns you on? What last reward? Enlighten me My Queen! Upwardly fast slice through old paths; this bramble bush of broken dreams. From head to knee unbeknown, I chase thee For these fragments lost and stolen Till then, My Love I shall remain and I will always be meaningless and swollen
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Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 10:04 PM UTC
An Angels Tale
From thigh to eye the wind whistles your name The echoes collide, Inside. I think I feel the same again, a distant voice, A broken wheel; sharp glass gloves and a clenched hand holds nothing For you to know me. Still. The urge to tame That which is seldom glimpsed by what right is that by man alone by night; a quivering pulse Untainted since a moment when I too, held someone tight. Too late to stall An hourglass bears the name grain by grain its fleeting Too slow to move, To re-direct a moment’s peace; I call your name each time I’m breathing. Some secret place A shelter from the storm a place unknown to me Beyond this haven; a miniature maelstrom Return (again) to reflect on what could have been. Now I Am Slowly dying; These moments maybe lost forever. A whispers tears in stealth marks a sullen face. In memory, drifting aimless, still, I call out your name; the space the echo fills is left speechless and misplaced. What spurns you on? What last reward? Enlighten me My Queen! Upwardly fast slice through old paths; this bramble bush of broken dreams. From head to knee unbeknown, I chase thee For these fragments lost and stolen Till then, My Love I shall remain and I will always be meaningless and swollen
DBeard
Written by
DBeard
Scottish
Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 10:04 PM UTC
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