The air I breathe smoulders
As stone and ash painfully jab my shoulders
I wander through the dead trees in the dark
My fingers tracing through the patterns of the bark
Wondering how something so ancient could still be vulnerable and undeniably stark
The petrichor is a welcome friend
As my entangled thoughts I dare so apprehend
All that's left is to set a blaze
Set to make the ruby flame in the woodlands raised
The forest is my haven,
Even if it is riddled with a battalion of ebony ravens
Ready to send my message
Amidst their golden passage
The thorns are emblazoned against my chest
Making my eyes wary of the wilting water lilies and cypress
I forget the forest is my sanctuary
And all I can see are shadowed monsters imposed with their anarchy
Playing with my dark brown irises, making dews of my eyelashes
The air I see ahead smoulders
A heavy weight like a pounding boulder
Amidst the fog I dareth walk
Against the prickly thorns I stalk
Despite all scars and wounds and bruises
I venture at the end of the woodlands
Momentarily rid of all the nuisance
Phew! Done with that. Wow, who knew poems knocked the air out of ya? I was never a fan of poems. I confess i hated it as a kid in English class because I never saw the significance. But now it is my air of breathing. Dedicated to JuanLunasDescendant who inspired me to give poems a second chance. Please check her out on her blog: https://franpear.wordpress.com/
YOU ARE READING
My Wattpad Archives
PoetryThese are general compilations- unfinished drafts that I may or may not finish, poems, songs, ballads and what I can think of galore at the top of my head. Things that I may laugh at or really want to treasure.
