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 Posted: Fri Oct 13, 2006 11:34 am
Sharp and dark,
a moon run silver glances spears
through an arctic sea of stars.
Passing intense beams, leaping in cold energy.
Wind quivers with the ancient songs
they spake of cold.
they sapke of the imminent surge for survival in fatal paradise.
they remembered the reality of living.
Pale and liquid,
an orb of melting snow, the moon condenses into a quiet tear
and dribbles slush through a warming mist of defiled light.
running in broken rivulets, weeping in desperation
Breezes whisper what is new
They speak of warmth
They speak of the imminent destruction from an army of heat
They see the reality of dying.
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Posted: Mon Dec 11, 2006 1:23 pm
oh I suppose death accumulates in the wintering months
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Posted: Mon Dec 11, 2006 2:11 pm
Talking to yourself now? I think that means something =P Lemme see, lemme see....
Poem has cool imagery. Me like lots. I don't like the "spake" stuff...but that could be a typo, since you used "speak" in the lower clump thing <.< Other than enjoying the pretty imagery... I feel..peaceful smile
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