trailing the stars of dawn
from an endless moonlight
sleets drooping a prance
of solitary ascendance
frost blizzard radiance
of the glaze, fall mists
strewn crinkled micro flies
heir of early waters, studious twinge
quenched solace to abide
the saddest renewal elegy
dew grays of hallucinogen
glistening, the nights chest
glittering hoarse, the soul
a hidden water, spilling
most lonely, silken light
virtuoso scents of blitz winds
sheen straps of raydrops, velvety
ochre, in some brown eyes
permutation clouds, swift storks
made a violet sheen dagger
drip, to bodies, sobering plants
white garment of pilgrims, the snow -
in agony, a nether slaver sienna
slid writhing : in quandary of obsequies
Comments
A seeming symphony of non sequitur
I simply can't grasp any cohesive meaning or gestalt in this and I really don't care.
It reads beautifully and is masterful imagery and word-crafting.
Emeka
I second what Jess has said about trying to find what this write is about.
May I suggest that with your obvious word power you could have a subject then talk of it, but we must know what it is.
These words are great but they need to stick to something solid, Yours Ian..