She whispers through the stormy night,
Whispers with her swollen eyes,
The dark emmissaries of fateless seas,
Within lynin wrapped in million crease,
She whispers soft rage, cruelty pure,
Rubber sparks and rubies flow
She cries at the dawn to slow
Her hate and wrath
She whispers soft
The nights path
As it winds.
3 comments:
I have just one word... beautiful!! absolutely beautiful!
those are three words!! hahahaa...thanks a ton though, very encouraging...but one question, why do poeple like it when i write about the night...i am serious. the last time i wrote about the night and its deeds or something related to it, it was welcomed, where as optimistic bright poetry is not all that liked...any answers?
as you said..if poetry is not sad and painful etc etc..its not poetry enough..I think its just a tendency,that we connect more with pain than with pleasure, we relate to it more..besides anything ambiguous excites more reactions than a happy bright prose.and i dont know about people, but i love writing and reading about the night..infact i love the night itself..
anyhow, my praise for this one is not because it is about the night or anything..its plainly because of the expression you have put in..like its not her you are talking about..anyhow, cant explain here..but its fab!! i would like to know who your muse is?
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