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Where are the Unicorns?
Folder:
Dark Poetry They say unicorns come
to the broken-hearted
like some kind of angel
burning pain,
but the trees don’t breathe
in their trance,
their icy nails
clawing my personal
galaxy,
and no silver ignites
the shadows,
liquid kingdoms opening
their gates—
they could be mouths of wisdom,
or the edge of the
afterworld,
or just emptiness,
it’s all
the same to me.
Where are the unicorns,
splashing like milk
in the stoney air?
I saw you in dreams,
above my shivering
blue world,
I saw you and
I believed in beauty
for a while,
and I believed there were
answers, but I
didn’t need to know them.
So where are you now,
when the Earth is a blade
rusting in tears
and the ground
rambles on under
an abandoned city
of stars?
Patricia Joan Jones
"...the earth is a
"...the Earth is a blade/rusting in tears..." Again a journey into the realm of voice and connection; emotions that are seeable. Neato! ~S~
I had to go through my older
I had to go through my older works recently and put in stanza breaks due to a glitch here, and I was thinking, why am I doing this? No one is ever going to read these oldies again. I'm thrilled you stopped by and left one of your brilliant comments. Love'n it. Thanks.
What a powerful poem! Yes, I saw loneliness in this poem – starkly etched in your projection – and I can hear the haunting bells calling for the Unicorns…
Kangaroo hugs from Down Under
Donkerman