Polarized by a blanket of s$%T
That covers every guilt, every glance, every pit
Fingertips, lips, slip and fit
Until its all it is and all that's it.
Licks like a million tongue strokes sour
Not unlike the restless tallying of countless hours
Seething sweetly she lays down and pardons her power
Surrenders to assuage sages in guarded towers.
Expression mine is a tale of lore,
Impeccably labored and haute couture,
Beacons of light that dance under moons unsure
Flirt and cavort anterior to invitation's door
Shadow people walk the length of the ceiling
And beastly it turns; and stands firm as its being
Time, time-its sprites defy me to cease it
My binding breath and second hand levers release it
The ghost, the ghost it revels happenstance before
Inebriated and courting death on the innkeeper's floor
Slip out of the restraints, but tie me up to which I adore
Regrets beg insistence, today I do give up the ghost once more.
shadow people walk the length of the ceiling, a good write
Doesn't matter how you dress it up, how you are dressed up or how fancy the surroundings. True beauty cannot hide underneath soot just as filth is filth no matter how you dress it up. And ghosts of regret? Stab them until they are dead and never trust a sage. Incredible writing talent revealed in this story.
I like it, it flows beautiful and has a quick pace. I enjoyed reading it x x
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I loved it. Be my friend and pen pal forever! You have writing abilities, intellectuality and strong instincts that drive your quill. :) G.