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Dancing in the sky Among diamond dust to the heaven's we wait Each day. We skip along the icy skies Dancing with the specters of old times Trails of sickles are left behind! To the point of destiny our wrists flicker To the point of blazing auras our souls enlarge Tomorrow spans into the waking hills The moon spiteful and shrill. Grace. |
I agree with Venia, a very beautiful piece. The imagery is very surreal, you create the sense of almost being in some magical dream. So good job, I enjoyed reading it.| Posted on 2008-08-19 00:00:00 | by bkj43 | [ Reply to This ] | I love this. It doesn't need to make sense at all to be a perfectly fine poem. I took a poetry class with a woman named Janee Baugher, and when I told her how sick I was of explaining that my writing means nothing to people, she said "You tell them that poetry is not for understanding." You words are beautiful. I can see this glacier perfectly in my mind, and that's all that really matters. | Kudos, ~Venia | Posted on 2008-08-18 00:00:00 | by Venia | [ Reply to This ] | |