micopoetry (Remove filter)
evolution of the kill
old souls polish glistened bones,
offering gifts to the rapture.
weary prayers fall on heavy feet.
the clouds crash like waves
revealing the cracks of heaven,
and in this moment
I am still
to let the dust settle.
Saturday 7th December 2024 10:18 pm
Recent Comments
Trevor Alexander on The Nobel Prize for Lies
1 minute ago
Trevor Alexander on Target
2 hours ago
Mike McPeek on A Somewhat Short Poem About Almost Nothing
6 hours ago
Rick Varden on Slug
9 hours ago
Russell Jacklin on Mob Rule Mentality
9 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Mob Rule Mentality
10 hours ago
Tom on The Waiting Room
10 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on A Somewhat Short Poem About Almost Nothing
10 hours ago
Tom on Picnic By The Kamo River
10 hours ago
Graham Sherwood on Target
12 hours ago