For the mountain was a foggy bliss, like nights of a perilous kiss, so soul connected in an emotion never rejected, but only missed - When the nights were parted like an oblivious wish.
That grass was soaking in a rain so warm, such a lurid evening storm. Where, from my porch, this storm came—from fog born so emotionally scorn and blossomed into weather untamed—weather so weathered in beautiful frame, with wind of ease, so gentle to please, and rain of love for my mind to breathe.
And then there was this appreciation, this natural anticipation, of a moment so boom; A combination so strict and articulately swift, like a paintbrush making a canvas of waking—where I will awaken, out of morning slumber, with my coffee so snug and warm with love, with my eyes adorn to the fog so gone—a lovely sky and puddles of night, with memories of a storm, so livid of light.
About the Creator
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To Paint a Life of Blessing
In the days of the mother goddess, the days of peace laden solace, there came a sky of which white smoke rolled with an anger that thrusted all living things into a fiery and chaotic-biblical storm – A great storm, that destroyed the water, the animals, and even the fields that lay corn. There was no warning of the storming; The days of beauty and resistance were slammed with mighty persistence from a being – Who, was more cunning than The Earth mother so stunning. For her world was broken in a whirl so soaken by an evil that cometh, through the sky, like eyes of a perilous-looming mind, and brought fourth, changes to cry.
By Frank Kemble6 years ago in Poets
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