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Elle

Submitted by Esker on Tue, 2011-12-13 18:29

cargo lithe
this spirit flesh
evolution
excites like a winter surge

rakish falls the day behind
drab torn fountian clouds
cold and pallid

pour the fire from decanters
throat
and let slip ambrosia
passage

Tottensonnetag

let night find us
drowsy with angel touch
let the black winged wind
play its orchestra

and the moon shall ferry
the lost

Editing stage: 
Editing - rough draft

Comments

Candlewitch

Wed, 2011-12-14 11:52

Candlewitch's picture
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Your poem has an ethereal quality, which I really enjoy! Loved these lines best:

let night find us
drowsy with angel touch
let the black winged wind
play its orchestra

and the moon shall ferry
the lost

always, Cat

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Esker

Mon, 2012-01-02 04:44

Esker's picture

I used to not sleep
like now at home
crawling from the bedroom window
to watch the night
or stand in the rain
feeling the spirits

I cannot help but to
notice the greater
realities then be lost
in my head with thoughts
like a ruin
though that is where I
live a lot

some nights are epic
adventures

author comment

Ian.T

Mon, 2012-01-02 10:32

Ian.T's picture
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I liked this piece a lot it was a glimpse of your land of dream time, that you are floundering on the darker side where you don't seem to trust your feelings so well.
I just wonder what reality is in this world of physical dreams that test us to our very souls.
Take care young man, Yours Ian.T

.
There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

Esker

Mon, 2012-01-02 14:56

Esker's picture

our bodies just recharge
going dormant for a few hours
I used to sleepwalk when
younger but dominance
and fear solved that
Just as well

I knew people that spoke
and sat up speaking clearly
their minds energizing their
unaware bodies into actions

knew people that wept deeply
and those that screamed

I was either bred with the darkness
or I was forced there from years
ago like a refuge exile

where does the balance of the
soul balance
vivid
treks
and fond recall
the nightmare flare

we are mysteries
wrapped in our passages
of secret lairs and courtyard
populace

never knowing where our
awareness will dream us
what shall be revealed or
reviled of joy or horror

thus are the fires of the soul
to test the mettle of our worth
salvation
redemption
carnage

author comment

Esker

Tue, 2012-02-21 00:09

Esker's picture

Ive felt this bruise before
trinket goblet filled with shells
and the roar of the swells

how can you see this
torn cause
the ghost we freed

like a shiver searching
down the soul
the journey
latent seeking
see

I to me
you
be

author comment
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