The I - I Am

I am not one for the milk of roses

Nor the peach of promises, dangling from a branch

I am desert grass

The snake from oil

Come the run and you will see

Come 

And let loose your fear

It is a burden to this world

There are fields still waiting like

 love inside a grave

Like the way your eyes tilt when

 you hear the clatter of leaves or

The rustle of bones on the evening train…

 

No

I am not one for the roses

Just a simple wing for the ivy stroll.

 

Reviews

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

I knew I heard a fluttering

[Perdition]

Yeah, sorry about that...hope I didn't wake you. I just can't help myself when it cones to categorial thinking...it makes me turn bat lashed every time, ;p

[Kristallo]

This takes my breath away...

This sharp testimony of self is highlighted by the most brilliant metaphors- it read like a restless wind through the stillness of sleeping trees. You speak of shedding fear, because fear is the mindkiller, and for me- the shedding of the organic body, an ethereal journey is led through the baritone of your wise and ageless voice. I love it.

[Perdition]

I have SO been wondering constantly about you lately. Always lingering there behind the ether of my strokes, you haunt my privilege and just as madness you tend these cuts so willful and able, the most inspiring of literary ghosts I have, as of yet and ever will meet. Thanks K.

[Alisa Js]

...like love inside a grave...

Love that line! So sad and yet, so very true. I wonder how many graves are filled with love, yet satisified...

What a profound thought, indeed!

...love inside a grave...

Kinda makes one want to get up and do something spectacular with the time they have left on this side of eternity. I know I do, anyway...

One can only chase the carrot dangling on the proverbial stick for so long..

~lol~

alisa ;-)

[Perdition]

"WHAT A wonderful world it would be"!!
THANKS for noticing that line..I was wondering if I truly passed on (no pun intended) what I feel when considering the significance and significant depth (no pun intended) of all the love still pulsating inside a grave. The voice of life does not end nor begin with biology....We are a part of all the"possibilities" in all things possible created and connected to EVERY- thing in EVERY-way we choose. Mwuah! THANKS~

[Tara]

ahhh...how comforting...makes me just wanna crawl inside a grave for a while. is that sick?

[Priscilla Sayers]

And nor am I...
For the roses wilt and pass, with no extraordinary flavor, but the ivy stroll involves the adventure of ancient stories I am one to listen as these bring sensations as they unfold...
They've seen me before and it is clear,
I am as ancient as their own souls....

[Perdition]

Yes you are...YES you are! Still wondering 'bout those roses though. I used them for poetic point but ever since I did, everywhere I turn there grows these sages of rose and they are PISSED!..lol.. Poor roses..they get such a tilt in rap and after all is played they too have their part in the pages of our story. Perhaps I should make amends with a glorious pen for roses... "Spiked, the love of limbs doth grow nightly lips of fragrance
The dove to flight, come morn as each garden sows eternal"
...Thank you so much my ancient soul

[Priscilla Sayers]

Amend the rosé, love the rain, caress the wind and soar Hawk as only you can.