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We live in an age desperate for poets, an age that needs constant beauty as all hell breaks loose and the heavens cry black tears of angelic regret. He without sin cast the first stone yet boulders are shoved by those of barbaric origin. Within a world which seems crazed upon a hype which manifests in war and religious blasphemy, Is a miracle to much to ask for?
This thread is aptly named, Miracles. It doesn't matter how you want to express the meaning of this title or its absence in our lives, just express it. Haiku, Senryu, Prose, Ode, Sonnet, Terza Rima, Lyric; whatever floats your boat. May a miracle be part of your life!
Crimson tears stain my walls,
their terrors, their calls,
Wailing as the bullets ricochet,
the deceased phantom cabaret,
becomes a lulling dream,
all fades into the gleam,
Artifacts of the pillage,
murders in our village,
Crimson tears stain my walls,
their horrors, their calls,
Oh a hand upon my chest,
or worse, a bloodied breast,
Not but a whisper, faint sounds,
This hellish war on our grounds
As all fades into the gloom,
All this blood favors my room,
Crimson tears stain my walls,
their terrors, their calls,
Haunting visions of demise,
expanding mushrooms in the skies,
As the rain falls upon our hide,
I realized God lied;
Miracles don't fall astray,
Even Christ is absent today.
(Oh, and to ease the writing process, just call each comment PT: your comment so that we know it's part of the thread.)
------
Art is addicting, an addict am I,
truth is I, the truth am I, the truth a lie!
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