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Old Poetry

The Forge
And in it’s dreams
It heard a roar
A bellows beckoning
The roar of a forge
And when at dawn
It did awake
It saw the sea
The sea forging stone.

Its full of stars
Looking upward
Seeing sky awash
With stars
Awe and possibility
Dancing in the blackness
Between scattered sparkles
Then eyes drop
Back to earth
A gaze across
Still waters
There again
A depth of stars
The reflection deepens
Something hints
What is without
Also within

Whisper
Something should be said
For the sensual qualities
Of a whisper.
A delicate breath of air
Like a shiver,
The passage of petals
On a breeze
Between lips.
The loam of body
Dedicating itself to the scene.
A movement behind
The eyes,
Leading to a softer place.
Where the realms
Of flesh
And Dream
Entwine.

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