Monday, February 20, 2012

The Wordsmiths Song

He laid her to rest in a bath of his brightest verse
Still growing hair propped under a poetic pillow of Christ and despair
Her fingers circled in the finest agony, neatly inscribed in fourteen karat metaphor
Her bosom draped in sonnets that would make Hera blush

You sleep now love
God save me
And eat in filigreed finery
God save me
I'll weep for your ghost
God save me
And companionship lost
God Save me
Take with you these words that I sing
Amen
They are all that I have to give
Christ....amen

He kissed her forehead with senryu lip gloss, cherry
And brushed her hair back with yesterdays melancholy sunset blazing
Her skin was as cold as a Russian winter, inked with an icicle
But her memory was as fresh as a teens infatuated lovers glance

Goodbye dear love
God save me
And fly with lightning bug splendor
God save me
I'll toast your soft touch
God save me

And companionship lost
God save me
Take with you these words that I sing
Amen
They are all that I have to give
Christ....amen



3 comments:

  1. This is so creative! Quite the love affair we have with poetry, huh?

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  2. Such an imaginative romanticism, but oh so heavily draped in melancholy.

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  3. I agree so romantic, beautiful and hauntingly sad~ Great imagery!!!

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