That old familiar
crushed ice soul
bitter blue
and burning cold
Salt stained barrel
weeping jars
tossed in the sea
and floating far
Ghostly clouds
dressed drab white
linger long
on a listless night
Numb and pale
like the moon
No shore in sight
No morning soon
(October 18th, 2017)
YOU ARE READING
Post Modern Mystic
PoetryPoetry fills a need of the human heart to express through the construction of artistic verse, the things that hide in its depths. This book of poetry is my attempt to reach those places and beyond. See if I do. Let me know if I reach you. This will...
