Ideophones…


What good is a day?

What good is a day,
the one not soon forgotten,
forever part of what makes you.

Shaping the path of tomorrow,
winding caustically along rocky cliffs,
hour by hour slowly dwindling,
till the absence of time itself.

Leaving the soil less fertile than before,
waiting and watching its days diminish,
once was a good day now gone forever.

The Tattered Tides of Man

Power kneels before the bridge
Dressed in a divine white robe

Leaving behind the corruption of kings
Impotence loathes for direction

Displaying drab dirtied rags
Creeping endlessly across infinite lands

Courage rises above those filled with hate
Sporting silk dress dowsed in glee

Giving hope to those who follow
Fear hunts on the fields of the weak hearted

Blackened with the soot
Thickened from settling in the depths

A Sun Soaked Shore

ghosts of the past live here

buried deep in the sand

never out of mind

buried deep within the soul

trapping time in its bind

leading you along a torn trail

making a glance into an eternity

keeping the lost locked away in your heart

never allowing its warmth to part

The Raven’s Ravine

gripping and growning

a ravine wreaking of restlessness

pinching and pulling

ropes draped down our descent

cringing and cracking

broken bone with no home

twisting and tense

tracking every timid touch

abrasive and acrobatic

looking into the vast mist

settled and swollen

seeking an invisible light

Memorized Movements

biting and bare

skin slips softly

tepid and torn

caress cloth close

glazed and gripping

wet wasted warmth

peaceful and powerful

freshly forced feelings

fade and fall away

lost loathed longing


more ideophones soon…

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