Shadowed skins clung like,
Butterscotch to muscle,
Unfurled to let the
Light leak in.
Boiling impure thoughts like,
Wine in vein injection.
Feather limbs,
Cloud spat to
Cleanse the cradle.
Mother, Sister
Grey eyes, steaming sanguine
When seconds scratch livings from the sea.
Fraying silk drawn,
Taut about skinless sky.
My, morning sickness
Tugging at the shadows.
Uneven wing beats
Bring me closer to
Beginning,
As control slips
Sinuously from fingers.
Blue sung silver melodies
On midnight’s tender ear.
Every night this flight
Feels like I’m falling.
Author notes
The title means "rare bird." Anyway, I chose the seventh option.
A contest entry
- All that's beautiful drifts away, like the waters. by Naridill.
1200 points, ended May 27, 2007, 20 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - The first best thing. by shirk.
660 points, ended June 6, 2007, 3 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - The Sky is Alive by sweetpearl.
2975 points, ended July 29, 2007, 26 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Some poets just attach to a word ... and the readers feel that word is theirs from then on out. Sanguine would be yours.
Love the title and the whole piece how it relates to it in a non-obvious way.
"Unfurled to let the
Light leak in"
--I don't know where you think of these words but I'm envious. Your vocabulary is not only better than mine, but your mind searches for obscure words, which I wish mine would do.
"Taut about skinless sky"
--I think the idea of a skinless sky is brilliant and am a little jealous I didn't think of it first, haha. Well, you match perfection on the gorgeous level. You weave words like nobody's business!

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Deserving of gold damn it.
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In your thing I would personally put
...Scratch living things from the sea.
I absolutely love the ending and everything about it. You're wonderful dear. I'd applaud a thousand times but I don't think that it would be enough.




