bloody good poem this:
Come Wraith
By Raven
And no one ever intimated
I would remain the victim of lunacy
long after the moon had released me
My lips are alternating patterns of
tidal motion
ridged with time
I fall hard between the lines sometimes
the letters above and below
leaving me no where to go
winding away in that slanted scrawl of yours
The Moon
ebbing as she does
waiting
Come wraith
dance with me beneath the scarred surface
of my fingers
within the thickening skin
we find something tangible
desirable
copper blood
for a bronzed kiss
The Moon
bulging again at last
her demure allure
gleams reflected
insanity
You avert your eyes
when my laughter reaches shrill
I know love
you will come to me in the still colour
of fable
perhaps after dinner
we can seek the answers
I wish to slick my flesh with
your indolent touch
My wants
are but particles caught
in the Moons soft beamed siren song
And you knew
I would become
didn't you?
Come wraith
laugh with me as we sip from sacrifice
and allow the chalice to topple
spilling moonlight over
the fine hairs striving
for sun
the tender sound of
fare thee well
My changes
aligned to the phases
And sometimes
its enough
By Raven
And no one ever intimated
I would remain the victim of lunacy
long after the moon had released me
My lips are alternating patterns of
tidal motion
ridged with time
I fall hard between the lines sometimes
the letters above and below
leaving me no where to go
winding away in that slanted scrawl of yours
The Moon
ebbing as she does
waiting
Come wraith
dance with me beneath the scarred surface
of my fingers
within the thickening skin
we find something tangible
desirable
copper blood
for a bronzed kiss
The Moon
bulging again at last
her demure allure
gleams reflected
insanity
You avert your eyes
when my laughter reaches shrill
I know love
you will come to me in the still colour
of fable
perhaps after dinner
we can seek the answers
I wish to slick my flesh with
your indolent touch
My wants
are but particles caught
in the Moons soft beamed siren song
And you knew
I would become
didn't you?
Come wraith
laugh with me as we sip from sacrifice
and allow the chalice to topple
spilling moonlight over
the fine hairs striving
for sun
the tender sound of
fare thee well
My changes
aligned to the phases
And sometimes
its enough
posted by burning moon at 9:28 PM
5 Comments:
Now you see
reading this makes me scratch my head and wonder where I am missing the mark with that other poem.
Its the control thing, you have to release control to write this sort of thing, it soars in its own song.
I think the more you evolve, the more control you exert, the less it can sing....
*sigh*
lol
I try not to write with control. Control is for editing afterwards, not for writing.
For writing you need to let go and soar. That's why it feels so nice. I think that's the part you can't teach to people. You either have it or you don't.
I have it
sometimes
at others I am like that Paul Simon lyric
all my words come back to me
like emptiness and mediocrity
Poetry is a curse in many ways
gods blessing in others.
maybe a poem is when angels whisper in your ear?
Don't get me started on the whole
poetry - God connection
I do believe it is a holy thing
the epiphany of words
I love how you phrase things like that, very cool
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