When or Ever
My dreams were moon-whispered songs–
if rain came, it touched with gentle fingers
and breathed honey-sweet breath on roses,
their luscious scent awakened with the sun.
storm winds beat with nightmare wings, and the seas
send lathered purple tongues to lick the rocks,
leaving bitterness to cling to them
like an ache
death come, an ever-expandable ship
sailing to the after–
and thousands of mothers cry why—
for what, and when
can never ever give you what you want?
My poem from the Oracle. As always, she knows what’s going on.
The angry god in petulant fury
raised his triton high—
soon scorched-ash clouds filled the sky,
covering the moon.
The storm raged, the sea roiled,
till Aurora said “enough, be done!”
And opened a door
to let in the sun.
John Constable, Stormy Sea, Brighton,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
This is a quadrille for dVerse. The prompt was storm.
Yesterday, Kerfe, Jane, and I in a bit of mysterious blog sisterhood and synchronicity all wrote about doors (with a bit of help from Emily Dickinson). I decided to play with the idea some more.