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9Joe Quinn

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As I lie here in my hollow resting place,
And hear the infant evening slowly wake,
Though buried, I long to meet face to face
That destiny that caused my soul to ache.
It started slow, with a simple sound,
Like ivory keys exorcising dark tones.
With no joy visible for miles around,
I shivered violently amidst my silver bones.
Strains of sharp isolation pricked the sky.
Flowers, burned, share their grief with none.
A broken harp. I hear angels cry.
The sky bleeds drops of crimson sun.
I hear you humming, close above;
Dry earth drums on me, like righteous clay.
I always sensed that it was my refrain you loved;
I should know it is on my bones you play.

Servitas a Periculum

Servatis a Maleficum

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The following comments are for "Grave Music"
by blightedstar

A Talented Display
I liked this poem, a lot. It reminded me, quite strongly of Edna St. Vincent Millay's "Renaissance" and then there at the end, the forward to Anais Nin's "House of Incest" where she references the quenna and compares it to the art of writing. Really Beautiful.

( Posted by: hazelfaern [Member] On: February 19, 2004 )

Silver bones
You have fantastic descriptions - silver bones, sky bleeds, crimson sun, etc. Very original and quite beautiful, without succumbing into excess morbidity. (I don't think morbidity is a real word, but it works here).

( Posted by: amethyst [Member] On: February 19, 2004 )

very cool
Reminds me of Poe(I love Poe), I really liked the infant evening, it's one of those word combinations that feels good to say, the flow of it. And my email address is :)

( Posted by: Joe Quinn [Member] On: February 20, 2004 )

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