No Song

How can she be defined?
That which humbles all
In modest form,
As her soft word hyphenates to verse
Bridged to refrain
From catharsis in chorus

To be explored
She waits, enigmatic, Raw
Power that defies
In napalm, ignition to a cause
Thick down picked
That biting scream
And that which awakens
Her presence in me.

She who plucked
The Starman from the sky
As comets leave tails
So too does she,
The trace marks of nails

In every note,
She resides, glinting eyes
Inked upon page
Woven tongue of lyricists
And laborious tales
Twenty-seven anniversaries
Too many times told

She is music
And embedded
Like calloused skin
She kisses, in time
Tender and violent
As a stranger, I to her,
How strange it must seem.

 

Reviews

[Azure Montessa (Blue)]

Good write. :) I love this.

[Francis-Gray]

Thank you, really appreciate it!

[fireblossom]

Well said. A wonderful poem.

[Francis-Gray]

Thank you very much, glad you enjoyed it.

[TwelveYearsGone]

Enjoyable. Looking forward to reading more.

[Francis-Gray]

Thank you kindly! More is on its way, hope you enjoy.

[Emily B]

i really love your voice, anonymous can't hide the timbre of your soul, looking forward to reading more of you

[Francis-Gray]

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoy my writing. I hope I don't disappoint!