Ere breaths entwined, with harp's lined rising
etched inside the womb of constellations,
literature birthed in quintessence,
and November becomes our cocooned thought,
flightless and delicate, as wild child
of moons and suns, maiden voyage.
Effortless this midnight cocktail began,
tracing a feather's silenced fall
fragility cushioning a poet's song,
and voices echoed in mistrals
with fingers pressed against harvest flutes,
as seasons, painted our love.
A contest entry
- 12 hour quickie 12/12L/12H by poet2angels.
475 points, ended November 9, 2007, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Criticism Is Very Much Welcomed -- I Am Here To Learn
Comments
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The last line is breathtaking...
Great imagery and metaphor!
Lynda
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:#
I'm zipped:#
It's so__________:#'wow'
- supremely divine and cryptic imagery -
...still pondering on some parts:#(lol)
Anyhow it was really brrrrilliant - good luck for the contest!
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