All Poetry

Dawning.

Snowflakes.
Fading upon blushed flesh,
its rivulets a frame
sketched
for the captive soul.
Gaze glimmering, hope dissolving,
an echo to the void of twilight’s end.
She longs to be released.

A breath divine.
An oasis to a threadbare wish
sculpts bittersweetness
into frosted air.
Embraced by light,
she follows the seraph’s call
and is freed.

 


83 replies »

  1. Phoebe, your blog looks great! I think you’ve “remodeled” some, eh? 🙂 Anyway, so very nice. And this poem–my gosh, what a beautiful thought for these cold, long days. Simply gorgeous (and those last lines, well, they take flight for sure). Glad I found you still blogging! I’ll stop by and say “hello.” Oh, and I’m guessing this is your artwork, too? Beautiful! Have a great day 🙂

  2. Wow! This really reminded me of something I said not too long ago about snowflakes in a positive outlook. I so love how we can take inanimate objects or nonliving things, and with poetry give them life!
    I’m in love with cities I’ve never been to and people I’ve never met, countless dreams like flakes of snow, countless hours spent on the phone.
    Maybe one day we’ll look up and see the dreams that chose us, the snowflakes that touched us.

  3. “Wow …. I can almost touch the loneliness reaching out, from that place ….. pulling people in, just as it hauled me in. Poetry in rapture …. Brilliant.” Henry Yorksed.

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