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Poetry Magnum Opus
badger11

siegfried line

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badger11

Her mottled hand points to a white feather

drifting towards the emerald lake.

Gently it comes to rest, nestled in stillness,

a viking ship anchored in algae.

She unclasps her tightened fist, displays a hoard

of obsidian stones. They are jet black.

They are like unthreaded beads.

Although I smile, and my milky hand

is feather-light, I aim with all my prayers

to sink the ghostly ship.

You throw a stone just like a boy

she whispers

to the snowy clouds - to the souls

pegged to the washing line.

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tonyv

Captures an unusual moment with a curious sense of detachment. It's almost like the narrator's presence is merely incidental.

 

Tony


Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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badger11

Thanks again for visiting Tony.

 

cheers

 

badge

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