A life of bitter-sweet
The lunar goddess must survive;
So olden in grace, and deities meet
Yet the bodily age of a child of five.
With the dove's white
It shines its face of ice;
In the darkest of light
It'll conquer all the vice.
Young dear, golden to the touch
Three-day slumber, always awake;
Your wisdom will make us feel as such
Blanketed in the ocean's wake.
In dark softness the moon is cumber
Under a mother raven's wing,
Every month it must slumber
As the zephyr's lulls softly sing.
A contest entry
- word prompt by poets whisper.
400 points, ended August 8, 6 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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Comments
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I like the last line a lot. It really shows what a zephyr is. The imagery is great and I like the rhyme scheme. thank you for entering †he contest.
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