I am the bones of the earth,
the flowering of my forebears.
I am the answer to their question:
"What is our future?"
Here I stand,
in the field of their tomorrows.
COMMENTS
Mother, tell me a story,
breathe your wisdom into me.
Exhale the history of your children,
your lost ones, the natural and hidden dead;
whisper in soft succulence,
in breezes of yestereve ...
Mother, tell me a story ...
In the past, flowers,
stone petals falling slowly,
released future fruits.
... Not as successful as the other one, I think.
COMMENTS
I like this one. Though that would hurt if it fell on someone like certain fruits. The poem reads like Spring to me.
Still lovely.
In the silver ripples of night, gaunt,
the maunderings of a spirit,
this traveler,
extracurricular of body,
dances.
COMMENTS
Beauty. ♥
mmmm
That was beautiful.
This is sooooooo awesome! I friggin' love it!!! :)
COMMENTS
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NOKTURNL
00:51 Dec 15 2019
nice