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  1. Words on Love's Passing

    by , 11-22-2016 at 05:52 AM (Silas Thorne's Journal)
    This is an early poem of mine, from way back in 1993. Overly romantic, but here it is:

    I am the hoard of words,
    the broken blackboard's face
    with bitter words of chalk.

    I am the heart's dove-tongue,
    surveyor of the sky
    that wrestled down my wings.

    And I once heard the song
    that was sung in the hills
    when the heart of the wind
    knew her name.
  2. There's only really one way out...

    by , 01-13-2015 at 06:20 AM (Silas Thorne's Journal)
    ...and that's through poetry. There's something hidden between the gaps, some combination of words that could make silence sing again.
  3. You said something

    by , 05-26-2012 at 06:13 PM (Silas Thorne's Journal)
    My friend said something
    about poetry
    ‘it was words singing’, something like
    ‘emotive association’,

    but that was a glance of cleavage past,

    a smile and fiddle of sandal,
    the way

    her golden skin
    shined with sweat till
    it dropped,

    right in the dark valley
    of her frilly green
    and orange dress,

    cool and
    as if to let the air in
    for a slow ...
  4. Wee ghostie (an Englyn Penfyr)

    by , 09-30-2011 at 06:24 AM (Silas Thorne's Journal)
    Kept close in and at its chest, small hands cupped,
    that ghost popped in, a door guest.
    It tricks n treats in sheets best.

    Updated 10-01-2011 at 09:26 PM by Silas Thorne

  5. Something almost an Englyn Penfyr

    by , 09-26-2011 at 06:18 AM (Silas Thorne's Journal)
    This tongue is not a mirror, it is full

    of Frost, the great world-ender.

    Let warmth melt sharp points kinder.

    Updated 09-26-2011 at 08:01 PM by Silas Thorne

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