Sara Dickson Poems

The tempest has a restless heart
And a turbulent soul
And never will her fury end
Until she has complete control.
...

Second, blink and then it's gone,
Gone away, moving on,
Ticked by the needle slick and black
Thin and slender, bulk it lack,
...

The death-calm took ahold of me
Swift, without cacophony
A sweet proposition
Whispered in my ear, and
...

I am the chorale of the wistful songbird
Carried by the sirocco wind
Echoed amidst the mirthful gale
Should her soft voice gently bend.
...

The tiger, garbed lavishly
In sunset oranges and murky blacks
Is the nomad of the cacophonous forest
And with a burning fire in his golden eyes
...

Standing upon a dream carcass
I ponder
Who holds my identity
Since I am no longer me?
...

The wolf, the twisted, wretched creature of shadows,
Sat in the center of the underworld,
Waiting for the next dying soul to come within his reach,
Controls the balance of life and death so cruel,
...

Descending rapidly down the slick tunnel,
The icy catacomb where souls lay at rest,
A pitch black chasm teeming with iniquity,
The rapacious fissure absent of warmth,
...

Gaping jaws fill'd silver ashes,
Teeth of ivory yet toothless gnashes,
Protruding fangs far from his lashes,
Shards of rock like steel blades stained.
...

The wind as soft as baby skin,
Calling out to swirling kin,
No answer, scream the wind with anger,
Beat against and wither earth,
...