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I Will Take These Burning Branches
I will take some burning branches
To build a shrine unto its eyes
As they sit among the ashes
Of your shadowy demise
Soon they’ll be sending us packages
All wrapped up in fragments of glass
And the light
O that light!
That golden-orbed light!
Will look like it came from the furnace of night
Or the dawn of the comfortable past
When the snowmen come
They are carrying
Blankets full of ice
And their crumbling faces tell me
That they live upon the dice
For there are children to please
While the flurries are gone, but the winter presses on
Hence, their place in the breeze
Ha, I would like to see you try
To organize my mind
The audience collapses
The oak felled by a vine
Preserve the remnants of the city’s fall
I speak before the solid wall
Please remind the murderer
That his mother is a porcelain doll
Her stare is cutting through me
But numbness eats up pain
She is a child of witchcraft
A prostitute of the brain
It’s crazy out there
But that’s why we care
About preventing the death of our king
It’s silent out there
And that’s why she cares
About the circle of her wedding ring
Do not let go of whatever you have
Or it will drift away
The body will dissipate
The lame donkey will bray his broken bray
Follow me if you want to
Though I’m just a figure in the dark
We can hide beside the fallen trees
And whisper with the meadowlark
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This article has 29 comments.
I'll look into this "Amoniel Musing." I'm really quite curious.
Now, for your poem, would you prefer rhyme or reason, or a mixture of the two?
I would not mind at all, I've been wishing to learn to fly for a very long while, among other things.
I'm sixteen and i get along better with old people as well, though every once in awhile I find someone of similar age to mine who I am able to talk to fluently and comfortably.
If you google 'Amoniel Musing', you should be able to find my blog on the very top.
Ah, age. Often troublesome for those who try to act as though they are ageless.
I will say that I am a mere fifteen years of age. So still quite a young 'un. But I'm often told that I'm an 'old soul.' I think all that really means, though, is that I get along better with elderly people than I do with most kids. :)
And you, if you don't mind my asking?
I do believe I shall write you a poem about how to go about finding your wings. I have, for some times, been considering demonstrating to Teeninkers how to fly, so this could be something of a similar nature. Do you mind?
Of course, I wouldn't hesitate in wishing to be told!
The inspiration is with you! That's how you are so very masterful with your Boosflash-ness. It's really quite incredible.
The Raven likes his little rhymes.
