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Poetry...

... it's like food to the mouth, air to the lungs, and sun to the living. I breathe it in, and so can you. Soak in these mellifluous syllables, and feel them as their fantastical utterances roll off the tongue...or eye.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Murmers of the Soul

"Disdainful,"
Beat her Heart
Under the Cold Silence that was 
Night.
"Secretive,"
Whispered her ear
In the Harshness of Night's
Cold Air.
"Deceitful!"
Howled her Mind
Through the Moon's Haunted Light.
"Resentful,"
Clicked her Tongue
As it carried towards the
Easter Sun.

-Irene Martens

Posted by Madel at 6:58 PM  

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