with the Nordic lyre of Runes...
Unwrapped in the biting
cold of a milky melt,
covered in hard, dark, shell
of chocolate...
a brittle break of ice floes
and Aristocracy, once known.
I bit in...
candlelit envy
of a partaking,
misunderstood as
sweet flowing cream
encircled the wrists.
A cow formed in the silver cloak
without a wrestle. A hedgehog
in misty melt of pagan mist...
Avalon calls in a druid dream,
fluid as juicy remembrance
biting at the bit; the bark
collapses in cream and a licking...
a paper fragment
of a dancing palate
melts
to a clock of
sleeping babe...
a pig in nestle smiles;
sleeping sure solace
of a delectable future.
bang! crumple and kiss
in the shadow of a
flickering flame,
swanning dive
in a bracken pond...
The crickets sang for me-
those who remember
a stock in trees and
wood hugging.
I believe in miracles,
and magick...
i don't wonder why.
"!crumple and kiss
ReplyDeletein the shadow of a
flickering flame"
Great lines! Sadly, I do not believe in magic/miracle. Keep writing!!!
Thank you... I think your music is magick and you are a miracle, ultimately we must believe this about ourselves.
ReplyDelete