A return to the water

R> I flung the door open And ran through the orchards Screaming for my love “Velandra, where could you be”? The thunder roaring With the coming storm Gave me such frights That I should lose her. I ran near the brook Where the sweet smell of honeysuckle Use to perfume the air, The place of her reverence. And there she was pious Limp in her corsets Pink bosom that no longer heaved I began to gather her and bereave. My wails heard through the bitter storm As I refused to leave her side Pallid and soaked And lifeless. Carried her through the storm to The cliff upon Land’s Landing Overlooking the roars of the hungry waves, That welcomed two more in their legend.

menoh

I am a button pusher. I stir up trouble. It is what I do. I live in the borders between light and dark. I can write about beautiful things, and joy and love, but I find I am more creative when i write about the dark. I love to hold a mirror up to the...

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