Say it
Our souls collided
and as we picked ourselves up off the ground
we knew
this was no accident
Category: poetic prose
Storms
He was my storm
I was his shelter
He, with dagger and compass
I, with torn heart
Stood stone still
A bringer of darkness
I was his light
Shipwrecked and broken
I picked his ruins
Salvaged the grit and the glass
He shivered from fever
I lit the fire
As he dreamed of ships in the night
Of sirens and seas, of pirates and plunder
I polished his pieces, held shards to light
Disturbed and addicted to Aigaios’ charm,
He swanned in the clutches of tempests
I swayed with symphony and sound
He was my storm
I was his shelter
Or was it the other way round?
~ Oceans and Storms
Paeonia
I disagreed.
The legends and the myths
Whispered tales of romance and honour
Apparitions in the mystic
Saw Apollo hand the flower to Paeon
While Asclepius, in a flash of rage threatened murder
It’s said that Zeus saved the mortal Paeon, turned him into an exquisite flower
That mischievous nymphs hid in petals
Of Moon Goddess magic which charmed Peony
Who in turn, reflected moonbeams into darkness
And you said, “Darlin. Don’t believe in inexplicable things.”
Poetic Prose
“His Plymouth navigated home on the blade edge of moonlight, that fine line before the razor-sharp steel slices through darkness, revealing the thin leaf of dawn.”
Grace Writes
