IN THE SILENT WIND
Swarming up to my spine,
The lusty fingers,
As I walk,
In the silent wind.
Singing the eternal elegies of life,
My mind crumbles with the bygone years,
Played in the tattered strings of seclusion,
Provoking my core with an enormous thrust,
Cracking up my heart with ablaze,
I can hear my blood seethe,
As I walk,
In the silent wind.
The fate of my survival,
The spill of the fiery memoirs,
Tormenting me brutally,
Stabbing my soul second by second,
Tears that streamed down my eyes,
Turned acidic today,
I hear them still bawling,
As I walk,
In the silent wind.
(Published in the Cynic Mag- Aug 2010)
If you would like to participate in this series, send a photo of yourself composing a poem or writing or a picture of a location where you enjoy writing, along with one of your poems (the type/genre of poem doesn't matter). This series will allow us to see the various locations that inspire us or where we go to write.
