Master Poet, What Is Wrong? - Poem by elysabeth faslund
The branch upholds the leaves, as your mind upheld whispers
on the page, white nothingness, until words scrawled from
your ever-supply of calligraphy pens...poetry appeared....
thrown on the floor in angst, picked up in revision....
Do you write when winds blow whispers to God....
Do you consider revision a suitable offering....
bloody and bloodless....your life on the page....
Do you no longer wish to travel to Moria....
Tasking the firey beast with roses of truths,
petaled on walls of your mind....the white knight
giant, tilting windmills, tilting hell, heaven....
earthbound strider of wilderness images....
Come back to the world.
Come back to us.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You