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Poems :  New Names
 

Times are illusive flowers

Prophets on the peripheral maze

Vicious winds blow thru alleys

Painters need large windows

I see collectives of devils

Secular beasts, large and cruel

Find where quiet can construct

Language is a miracle



Wood sings like an old landmark

Form is in the image galaxies

Quadrants of self hear the tides

Poets hear rhythms of tacit blood

Wombs will always wait like stars

Her libido is injured excess

Reflections always need purity

I see the river flow like a buffalo



Prairie dogs guard the mind

Rain runs down valleys of history

We seem to reach for the universal

Blankets and moccasins with beads

Lore on lyres of musical forests

Golden tresses with vines of temples

Sleep on sands where time repeats

Have you signed the book of life?



New names etch their tombs



Author
Byronic
Author Byronic
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Poem
Date 2018/6/2 21:10:04
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License Creative Commons License
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