|
Post by twistedangel on Dec 21, 2015 2:50:32 GMT -5
Lying or denying...I know not spiritual yearnings Find meself resting weary legs in ancient places Tis nought but a mound high upon a hilltop Imagined memories lands lost Gods
Overcast, a light rain immersed within dragons breath Ancestral visions of iron of wood of stone and clay
Meadow Lark gave way to contrails A tinkling anvil to an Iphones alert
An I know not a soul
|
|
|
Post by LonelyForsaken on Dec 21, 2015 4:47:56 GMT -5
Awesome write Angel and extra points for the Gaelic (Welsh) reference.
|
|
|
Post by awesomebill on Dec 22, 2015 12:08:07 GMT -5
You have definitely stepped it up a notch there Carmen, er sister. The way that you use dem vowel sounds gives it a songlike quality and your rhyme scheme is pleasin' to my ears. This poem alone I give a 9 and I don't be givin' those out a'rarely e'er.
|
|