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Poems by Sceptre


Tribute to Voices

past time of days present,
we fall from withered branches
where wind scatters the breath of dust
over lands, our broken heart-husk.

time present is time past
and time past is time future.
cycles bind the rooted tree
to the unwavering pattern of generation.

where beauty lay amid the gold
of sunlight woven
into the palm
of gentle moments beneath an endless sky-god,
I remember the gilded hour
that you and I
could only know-

what connects the ancient stones which long since drown beneath the waters,
to what I now, alone, perceive in tiny pebbles?

against the tides
the ocean plunges
over cold and rugged shores,
strung to the pull
of moons momentum
again, again the water tumbles.
here I stand to watch the light on swells of sea
it strums the songs
that I have heard
beyond the silence,
it was your voice,
that hummed along.

time past is time present,
and time present
is time future.
cold January abandoned light
where shadows split
a frosty haven,
the bitter darkness
betrayed the snow.
the whited shards
of frozen water
reflected nothing
but the sky.

April runs a violent river
to breach the earth
in soiled folds,
cleft fissure of swollen body
spews pain where time has thawed.



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Biographical sketch: nothingness

Sceptre recommends:

trilogy by HD
Reason: it is just as it is.

Recommendations for writers:

to think beyond what we know, do not simply accept what is presented.

 

 


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