Our Words Are a Chalice

Thorny barbed words that blear my judgment

My self have been given, too.

I find I can hide behind the rain

That beats my skin with ice; halts,

Suns.

 

Condemned roots that travel between the lines

To stroke the words on its edges.

I find I can stain paper with ink and

Make black a chalice, gold; halts,

Syllables.

 

When this child knows no language,

Of austere kisses that have been given life,

I find I can grieve with him, too.

It grates against time; halts,

Tomorrow. 

Reviews

[Infinite hexes]

Really creative,i liked the title

[Amila Jay]

Beautiful write :))

[Distant horizons]

Beautiful use of language. has a feel of another era. Wonderful.

[Kenneth The Poet]

Powerful write, a profound one at that. Deepest desires on display but not returned.

[.........]

You are amazing! I really liked the way you opened us up for your pattern, with the "halts, ..." etc. I really liked some of the descriptions in this poem, and I think my favorite would be "that beats my skin with ice; halts, Suns". Wow! Im very impressed

[Mohamed Hani]

Elissa said it all...
so wonderfully written

And this is the art of your soul, so wonderfully said. This style is just rare and poetically raised my interest! Well written, well done!

[Just Another Writer]

Very sophisticated style of writing. Your word choice was excellent. I enjoyed the one- word lines at the end of each stanza.

[*~*Butterfly Kisses*~*]

Beautifully written piece. Nicely done.

[Blue Ivory]

Beautifully written. You have a talent at swirling words into beautiful pieces of art =)