#hillside
With hair falling before quiet ears
And mind bent steadily on pages of ink
Resting softly above the earth
Her chest rises and falls
In steady unison
Her pulse patters faintly like little feet
And with quiet eyes, she looks up suddenly at me
And winks
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 3:45 PM UTC
A broker
was breaking
the middle-man system.
That broker
is the middle-man
between Earth
and non-fulfilled sky !
Sun became a broker
for moon's moonlight
gay-party.
That time a human
broker was
in lazy mode.
Again a broker is needed
to break in the vehicle
which may hurt the
sentiment of
hill side people.
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 10:20 AM UTC
Save your gravity
For the fragile bones
That tread your mountainous rock
I will not fall again.
That slippage comes too quick
When weak men crawl
Like ants upon your surface
I am the fallen angel
Whose wings were too burdened
By the golden kiss of truth
I have fallen to this world
To this mountain
To this cliffside coffin
I have torn from the stone
A house and a life and a lover
I have risen beyond the curse that binds me
And I will not fall again.
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 7:52 PM UTC
I look upon a hillside green, A cow takes water from a stream,
A fox in play handsome and lean, upon this hillside emerald green,
Though…
Through my window it all seems, so far away, as in a dream.
A breeze picks up to push the grass, in great long sweeps I see it pass,
The sun is high a molten mass, resembling gold or polished brass,
Yet…
Through my window it all seems, so far away, as in a dream.
And to the stream a shepherd lad, shoulders low and poorly clad,
Made his way, though face was sad, for three small sheep were all he had,
Alas…
Through my window it all seems, so far away, as in a dream.
And from the south a minstrel gay, dressed in scarlet white and grey,
Comes skipping toward the stream to stay, beneath a tree I see him lay,
A merry tune begins to play,
And still…
Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream.
Then ore the hill comes charging quick, a band of goblins armor thick,
And in their hand an iron pick, the sons of light they mean to STICK!
But no…
Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream.
The shepherd lad a warning cries, before the pick removes his eyes,
The minstrel flees, at least he tries, but goblin chief of massive size,
Outran the man who screaming dies!
Yet still…
Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream.
The sheep are taken as a snack, the cow is butchered, carried back,
The fox has fled for all are dead, the stream once clear runs ruby red!
And yes…
Through my window it all seems, quite far away, as in a dream.
Now as I gaze, all seams so still, nothing moves nor ever will,
For goblins bear the urge to **** now crimson stains the emerald hill…
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 11:43 AM UTC
Standing on the hillside
Stilled winds blanket my skin
I close my eyes and embrace
Worms born of skies and clouds
Blank are the colors they inspire
Lying on the hillside
Earth's feathers caress my limbs
I close my eyes and imagine
My bed sinking beneath the ground
Under may I breathe better than above
Falling down the hillside
Sunless upon the town, small and wilting
I close my eyes and remember
Sensations akin to this, akin to innocence
Come the end of my fall, will either of us stand?
Before this old hillside
A body still as corpses about the air
Open eyes shimmer, puddles of rain
Ashes, dirt and dust swim about this sprawled figure
Clothing for naught, now flesh sings with Her whole
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 1:10 AM UTC