Angelic Devil
02-23-2015, 07:49 AM
Hello,
As the title says but really I wanted to share a poem that I have written. I originally titled it 'Twenty-Six' but then I thought that title might not really be expressive of the poem.
Mm so here it is:
Clipped Wings
In this world of vertical heights, I remain still
Horizontally detached by my own crumbling will
My wings once bright like a rising sun
Plummeted down into a war long won
Through thick and thin, firm and white
I soar above the evening sky
To a land once known to those I loved
With a courage born from a solitary light
Under a company of stars by a silver lake
A memory of youthful wiles deafens the earth
For a child born on a winter’s night
Sees not the truth but the past’s mistake
And so they clip my wings with their tainted hand
In a world where all must be same
I bow my head to the deceitful keeper of time
To the witness in the heavens’ forsaken land
But when the judges seek what is concealed
A desire for perfection overcomes grief
For a mystical performance of blood and tears
Inspired by their sweetened greed
Upon my descent the wind blows a feather
On the throne of the one I called my lover
Into the palm of his hands he holds my memory
His one glimpse into my misery
Thanks!
M
As the title says but really I wanted to share a poem that I have written. I originally titled it 'Twenty-Six' but then I thought that title might not really be expressive of the poem.
Mm so here it is:
Clipped Wings
In this world of vertical heights, I remain still
Horizontally detached by my own crumbling will
My wings once bright like a rising sun
Plummeted down into a war long won
Through thick and thin, firm and white
I soar above the evening sky
To a land once known to those I loved
With a courage born from a solitary light
Under a company of stars by a silver lake
A memory of youthful wiles deafens the earth
For a child born on a winter’s night
Sees not the truth but the past’s mistake
And so they clip my wings with their tainted hand
In a world where all must be same
I bow my head to the deceitful keeper of time
To the witness in the heavens’ forsaken land
But when the judges seek what is concealed
A desire for perfection overcomes grief
For a mystical performance of blood and tears
Inspired by their sweetened greed
Upon my descent the wind blows a feather
On the throne of the one I called my lover
Into the palm of his hands he holds my memory
His one glimpse into my misery
Thanks!
M