Poems from TheGoldenApples13
I'm not a bumper sticker gal. There's a little
something in me that winces at
the slogans and the white sticker cut-outs on
the rear...
What is there to be said
When all the pictures have been painted, when
wordsmiths more skilled have woven better phrases
Who am I, who am...
Seeming as soaked in salvation as
wet wheat fields
rusted with rain
and the heavy clouded mountains in their fog-wreaths of blue
The air...
(This poem was penned at 1:16 AM)
Late at night
All the babies are asleep, growing slowly
In the quiet space between cold vault of stars...
whatever I think
becomes what I do
yet those things which I wish
never come true.
the sun on this morning
lies bright on the faces...