Post by Sheila Widdershins on Feb 21, 2007 21:53:00 GMT -1
The voices… just around the bend…
The words that flow out of a gap
succinctly shut into oblivious mayhem
misdirection makes the weeping sap
stick to the gentle trees that made them…
home and honor wind-sweep colorful sands
blues melding with oranges,
on the shore of some strange land…
where pooling yellow is swallowed gently
by a majestic green… say:
my scars will only heal
still standing by the
silent streams…
radio silence is coveted within the shack
the silence of the sea breeze that gently taps,
taps, taps…
…the branches on the nightly window…
a flowing stream of peace,
on which floats
a boat of dreams… the falling
sail was set to the wind, and…
bearings kept in check, failing in ordering
the slick boards not to be wet,
mage examining the extravagant stick—
the hollowness of the to-be wand
remains unfilled as of yet…
the magic in the sky was
torn down by the sea…
search in me the gentle thread, it’s there…
tenuously reaching too far away,
please cut me free, my gulls…
the raging winds were quelled
by a whisper from the trees…
the vipers that nested in the forest
were bitten down by dust
and I said, don’t tell me lies
unless you do not wish to have my trust…
letters fold themselves by the windowsill,
lamps turn themselves off
covers pull back on their own accord,
the cooling tea suddenly becomes hot…
the moon shines for me tonight,
whispers the voice, so soft…
and a lofty breeze settles my hair about
speaking up only when it must…
the shack’s door creeks shut—
snap! and the winds are gone…
the stars are falling,
as the sky weeps for a Goddess,
somewhere waiting beyond the hemisphere
of living mortals who choose
to shut their eyes…
the chaos inside me suddenly awakes,
and impresses upon me the importance,
of laying a hand beside the mug of pencils,
the carefully placed pens,
the voices… just around the bend…
The words that flow out of a gap
succinctly shut into oblivious mayhem
misdirection makes the weeping sap
stick to the gentle trees that made them…
home and honor wind-sweep colorful sands
blues melding with oranges,
on the shore of some strange land…
where pooling yellow is swallowed gently
by a majestic green… say:
my scars will only heal
still standing by the
silent streams…
radio silence is coveted within the shack
the silence of the sea breeze that gently taps,
taps, taps…
…the branches on the nightly window…
a flowing stream of peace,
on which floats
a boat of dreams… the falling
sail was set to the wind, and…
bearings kept in check, failing in ordering
the slick boards not to be wet,
mage examining the extravagant stick—
the hollowness of the to-be wand
remains unfilled as of yet…
the magic in the sky was
torn down by the sea…
search in me the gentle thread, it’s there…
tenuously reaching too far away,
please cut me free, my gulls…
the raging winds were quelled
by a whisper from the trees…
the vipers that nested in the forest
were bitten down by dust
and I said, don’t tell me lies
unless you do not wish to have my trust…
letters fold themselves by the windowsill,
lamps turn themselves off
covers pull back on their own accord,
the cooling tea suddenly becomes hot…
the moon shines for me tonight,
whispers the voice, so soft…
and a lofty breeze settles my hair about
speaking up only when it must…
the shack’s door creeks shut—
snap! and the winds are gone…
the stars are falling,
as the sky weeps for a Goddess,
somewhere waiting beyond the hemisphere
of living mortals who choose
to shut their eyes…
the chaos inside me suddenly awakes,
and impresses upon me the importance,
of laying a hand beside the mug of pencils,
the carefully placed pens,
the voices… just around the bend…
February 21, 2007
(Or I'm getting stupid. 
yay! 
Not lately... have you... wait, lately you haven't or lately you have liked many of them? 0_o