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Rain On Battlefield
Hold out your hands to skies
At this late hour feel the sullen strength
The magic of this clear space spiraling
Upward looking down to your open eyes
Stabbing your open eyes with ages of force
Feeling your bones with spider fingers of air
Shaping around your skin with finesse
With a whispered melody of belonging
Hold out your hands to skies
Become that tan sundial at this late hour
Find a relief from the ground you stand upon
Ground crazed by blood under sky under sword
This clear space smiles upward
Open eyes ages of force can never close
Wow, i really liked this poem. Out of all the ones i haave read so far, which was somewhere between 5-10 , you just have so many i cant read them all yet. heh. This one just reached out and grabbed me. i dont know what it was about it, i just really liked it. nice. :)
Hello Matthew. I was just enjoying your poem. Mostly I just wanted to say hello. I got a kick out of this other critque though. I think empty barrels make the most noise. Be cool. Keep on rocking. James