Friday, June 18, 2010

Verb Pronoun

The gap between
the frosted sill
and pane
Above the seat
where stormy clouds
are formed

Below the lakes
which spread and bend
and churn
There sits a heart,
tattered veil

But break it
crumbles when it
hears your name
And moments run,
like raindrops
in descent

The ghosts within
are nameless,
but a rose
She reaches through
the gloomy
looking lines

As faces press
like fingers
on a glass
“For you the sky,
I’ll bend and break
and curve”

With secret
love springs flowing
by design
From here to
Shallow Window,
we entwine


The Scrybe said...

Regrettably I’ve been too busy to comment on the brilliant artwork I’ve seen on here recently, but it is all looking good, and I do enjoy it.

Also I've noticed all the new additions, I'm so happy to be part of the FoS team :)

Old 333 said...

I really quite liked the moments on the windowpane. That was lovely. Thanks for the poem, Scrybe.


Old 333 said...

And I know what you mean about getting buried in stuff you want to respond to. Me, too. There is a lot of good stuff to read and see, and I almost can't let myself because I seem to have lost all my time somewhere.

Zaina Anwar said...

Haunting lines....

GoGo said...

haunting for sure. like.