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"throrned" poems
In the fall of light, Trees turn to stone. This time the sun removes, Told in tales of the rise of moon. Light winds rustle rusted leaves— And a fur will soon be feathered in a bed. And silence screeches as some flying bark embarks And the very trees are hollowed in their grieves of the newly Throrned, red, running rose— of the dearly claimed, arisen dead.
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Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 9:11 PM UTC
ormond
Owl
In the fall of light, Trees turn to stone. This time the sun removes, Told in tales of the rise of moon. Light winds rustle rusted leaves— And a fur will soon be feathered in a bed. And silence screeches as some flying bark embarks And the very trees are hollowed in their grieves of the newly Throrned, red, running rose— of the dearly claimed, arisen dead.
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9
In the fall of light, Trees turn to stone. This time the sun removes, Told in tales of the rise of moon. Light winds rustle rusted leaves— And a fur will soon be feathered in a bed. And silence screeches as some flying bark embarks And the very trees are hollowed in their grieves of the newly Throrned, red, running rose— of the dearly claimed, arisen dead.
0
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC
ormond
Owl
In the fall of light, Trees turn to stone. This time the sun removes, Told in tales of the rise of moon. Light winds rustle rusted leaves— And a fur will soon be feathered in a bed. And silence screeches as some flying bark embarks And the very trees are hollowed in their grieves of the newly Throrned, red, running rose— of the dearly claimed, arisen dead.
Continue reading...
9
Restless leaves snarl in turmoil. Unitentional violence however, its merely the omnipotence of wind. But now, perfectly still sits an intricate statue. How soon these throrned branches forget, how powerless they will become. . . -AB
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Nov 26, 2011
Nov 26, 2011 at 11:51 PM UTC
ab
Omnipotence
Restless leaves snarl in turmoil. Unitentional violence however, its merely the omnipotence of wind. But now, perfectly still sits an intricate statue. How soon these throrned branches forget, how powerless they will become. . . -AB
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8
In the fall of light, Trees turn to stone. This time the sun removes, Told in tales of the rise of moon. Light winds rustle rusted leaves— And a fur will soon be feathered in a bed. And silence screeches as some flying bark embarks And the very trees are hollowed in their grieves of the newly Throrned, red, running rose— of the dearly claimed, arisen dead.
0
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 3:05 AM UTC
ormond
Owl
In the fall of light, Trees turn to stone. This time the sun removes, Told in tales of the rise of moon. Light winds rustle rusted leaves— And a fur will soon be feathered in a bed. And silence screeches as some flying bark embarks And the very trees are hollowed in their grieves of the newly Throrned, red, running rose— of the dearly claimed, arisen dead.
Continue reading...
9
In the fall of light, Trees turn to stone. This time the sun removes, Told in tales of the rise of moon. Light winds rustle rusted leaves— And a fur will soon be feathered in a bed. And silence screeches as some flying bark embarks And the very trees are hollowed in their grieves of the newly Throrned, red, running rose— of the dearly claimed, arisen dead.
0
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
ormond
Owl
In the fall of light, Trees turn to stone. This time the sun removes, Told in tales of the rise of moon. Light winds rustle rusted leaves— And a fur will soon be feathered in a bed. And silence screeches as some flying bark embarks And the very trees are hollowed in their grieves of the newly Throrned, red, running rose— of the dearly claimed, arisen dead.
Continue reading...
9
. In the fall of light, Trees turn to stone. This time the sun removes, Told in tales of the rise of moon. Light winds rustle rusted leaves— And a fur will soon be feathered in a bed. And silence screeches as some flying bark embarks And the very trees are hollowed in their grieves of the newly Throrned, red, running rose— of the dearly claimed, arisen dead.
0
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 5:32 PM UTC
ormond
Owl
. In the fall of light, Trees turn to stone. This time the sun removes, Told in tales of the rise of moon. Light winds rustle rusted leaves— And a fur will soon be feathered in a bed. And silence screeches as some flying bark embarks And the very trees are hollowed in their grieves of the newly Throrned, red, running rose— of the dearly claimed, arisen dead.
Continue reading...
10
. In the fall of light, Trees turn to stone. This time the sun removes, Told in tales of the rise of moon. Light winds rustle rusted leaves— And a fur will soon be feathered in a bed. And silence screeches as some flying bark embarks And the very trees are hollowed in their grieves of the newly Throrned, red, running rose— of the dearly claimed, arisen dead.
0
Nov 29, 2015
Nov 29, 2015 at 4:31 PM UTC
ormond
Owl
. In the fall of light, Trees turn to stone. This time the sun removes, Told in tales of the rise of moon. Light winds rustle rusted leaves— And a fur will soon be feathered in a bed. And silence screeches as some flying bark embarks And the very trees are hollowed in their grieves of the newly Throrned, red, running rose— of the dearly claimed, arisen dead.
Continue reading...
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