deepundergroundpoetry.com
Haunting Memory
To be the poet of such prose
Who, could torch a flame
Upon a rose
Taming it until it glowed
Then turning it to ash
As white as snow
And as upon the wind
She would flow, whispering
As she goes
“Such a shame to do this thing,
To sing about the memory
Of a ghost”
Whom now but a wisp of smoke
Was once well with-in a flower
Clothed
Who, could torch a flame
Upon a rose
Taming it until it glowed
Then turning it to ash
As white as snow
And as upon the wind
She would flow, whispering
As she goes
“Such a shame to do this thing,
To sing about the memory
Of a ghost”
Whom now but a wisp of smoke
Was once well with-in a flower
Clothed
Published 18th Jan 2013
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18th Jan 2013 7:03am
Flowed like a dream,
Taming it until it glowed
Then turning it to ash
As white as snow
Beautiful imagery,
that sinks in as you go.
Leaving vivid moving pictures,
flicking through my mind.
Well written :)
Taming it until it glowed
Then turning it to ash
As white as snow
Beautiful imagery,
that sinks in as you go.
Leaving vivid moving pictures,
flicking through my mind.
Well written :)
18th Jan 2013 10:14pm
