Hidden black roads
laced with silk layers of ghostly snow.
Thick carpets on walls separating
each marshmallow house;
row by row.
For as far as I can see,
for as far as I know.
Bare trees look frail and weak
like the little old lady who's shivering past.
Silk layers only broken by the
ambient pattern of tyre imprints
and footprints.
The exterior beyond the pane seems
isolated.
The skies up above have waited for
this beauty to be created.
This earth we live on can be
hardly attractive.
Bland complexion.
But this make-up which has fallen down
has enhanced the ground.
The orange circle in the desert blue
sky above is gaining it's
power.
Now, the snow is beginning to cower.
Comments
-
The imaginary was fantastic. But your flow went on and off. Try to be more consistant, if it is going to be free-verse, have it free-verse, if not, then don't mix it up. A good try, with work this could come out very, very nice. Thanks for sharing.
-
-
I appreciate your opinion, and I have taken in your comments. Personally, I don't stick to rules in poetry...I like to mix things up a little. But I can understand what you mean.
-
-
Well said.
-
-
Adding your comment:
