A lost child
Enters his forest
Drawn on
By lantern light
By hope of warmth
She encounters
The devil himself
A beastly form
Worn and torn
Snarling
Alone
Timidly
She approaches
Extends a small
Soft hand
He twitches
Turns
His eyes flare
And burn
But the child
Does not shy away
She instead
Caresses
His pelt
Meets his gaze
Selflessly
Welcoming
Her death
In the
Lantern light
Of his eyes
Kings and queens
Of the mounds
A mighty race
Lost underground
Shifting
Through
The history
Of the vast green
Velds of the Éire
The people
Of the Sidhe
Live on
Unfaded
From history
Forever sheathed
In emerald fire
In mystery
On the
Emerald Isle
Poetry, Prose, Film. TV, Music, Slice of Life
Randomz and plain stupidity
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Quality of life, Reflects quality of thought.
{Rachel Lynn}
Read our Mission. Find out how you can help us adopt James.
since 1988
backwards, forwards, sometimes sideways
so many reasons to empty my mind.
Dream big! Live bigger!
Whispers of Poetry
"Eye Fly High"
Poetic Landscapes Of The Spirit
It's hard being a teenager, especially when you're 30
An effort by maintaining harmony and balance within life to attain continous improvement - Y2K
earthquakes and volcanoes .... jimibodansko@gmail.com
Trying arduously & enjoying in the process :)
thoughts of a 20 something girl.... :)
