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S t a t i c u s
she falls
backboned and heel bare
struck
alive with light
television blare
her blonde perfect head
the angel mouth
there are wildfires of
storms ringing through
a fresh mind
lightning in her arms
tightening her spine
the thunder realms
vibratto
gran mals her gram
says
her ovid pupil
relfecting the worried
smile
of the youthful inflection
..
Editing stage:
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Comments
ida
Thu, 2013-06-27 22:11
breath
wisps of air
blow through hardened lungs
whispers of younger days
time rewinds
to fresh
not free
dance upon ignorant air
buoyant immaturity
swaths babes
your poetry is undefinable
I cannot express the quality of genius
thank uou
wesley snow
Fri, 2013-06-28 00:30
Undefinable indeed.
Good play on the title.
W. H. Snow
A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley
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lonlyhrtsclub13
Fri, 2013-06-28 08:34
wow
Such a powerful play on words. A different take for sure. I really do enjoy your writing!
Keep Writing,
Carrie
"Quoth said the Raven, NEVERMORE"