Poetry Blogs (misty)
On a hot summers eve close to the twighlight,
the marble of crimson came rolling down past sight.
Misty clouds coating the ever changing sky.
birds whistle their last tune before slumber calls them.
Stars begin to light.
Soon it will be night.
Close to the twighlight.
Monday 17th August 2015 8:03 pm
The flickering light calls from
across the disused railway embankment
like a lonely beacon sending signals
into the misty grey dawn.
Quietly questioning a world
still wrapped in strong arms of slumber.
I consider sending an answer,
would that I understood its coded question.
I’m drawn into its intoxicating world by
the pulsating rhythm of its incandescent heart...
Tuesday 7th July 2015 10:15 am