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  • Dark Poetry

    2

     I saw the mountain burn
    I saw the forest glow 
    I saw the skies open up overhead

    I heard the ocean rise
    I heard the sons of rain
    Calling back and forth "here" "over here"

    I saw them all advance 
    I heard the thunder speak
    Of fire and of water and of the death of men 

    And when it all was gone
    Like there never was
    Stars shone through the shadows hat remembered 

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    gailkindler’s Poems (11)

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