I was the leave that blackens the sky,
death a singing spear through my stomach,
spinning and turning, on mortality's beats.
[Unknown hands] vainished into misty woods,
the attic of my mind, minstrel's swang song.
My days, pyrite-shaped; on crystallic edges
I found amounts of time to breathe clean
the discrepancy, walking on razor-blades.
My eyes aren't his, my father's dreams, which
change the flow of blood permanently.
Kingdom's death is a river, painting each day
gold, ghostly faces just flicker, float away
on icy void, waiting on materialization.
Author notes
A pyrite eyed poet-1179 comments
Nevel
Amaranthine Lover
A contest entry
- #165 Your prompt is listed on your profile page by daviscth.
700 points, ended December 4, 2008, 18 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - Best Prewrites From November 2008 by amaranthine lover.
700 points, ended December 28, 2008, 18 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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Love the imagery.
Big error: 4th line, spell check that. I had a hard time understanding it. -
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Thank you, I have to turn back in my memories lol
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Wow. Strong words, and the images that you create with them are equally strong. Each of them pack a punch, especially placed all together in these lines and stanzas.
Well penned,
~lost -
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thank you
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Thank you for this entry. I really liked the imagery in your verses. The middle lines are my favorite.
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Thank you
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