O'er the Mountains

When the rains ceased to stop

     And o’er my hands grew cold,

A book was placed on sodden ground

     By my sorry head and soaked. 

The words were meant to soothe me

     And a voice I was supposed to hear,

But I heard no voice and felt no peace

     But the ink draining into my ears-

To believe a coward knows not courage

     Defies my muddy cheek,

For I have never seen you 

     Biting the blade and sawing teeth;

But I am a cowardice 

     Who lies frozen at will, 

And o’er the mountains, they say,

     I will sleep well, sleep well.

Reviews

[Erinne S.]

I loved the descriptions you put in this piece. I could vividly picture every detail. The flow was perfect!
Great write Hayley!

~Erinne

[Seshat Nidaba]

This had a very John Donne tone, being one of my favorite poets of old, have you read him much? You could of course write ancient with edge, this would at least allow a range of sharpness to color the beauty. Explorations of shame, guilt, envy, possessiveness - may be interesting. This very nearly reaches what I am talking about.

Cowardice, is of course, an original topic.

[BlueDreams]

Awesome and sweet one craft.. :-)

[Ruth]

I adore the almost ancient feel to this piece love, a wonderful poem! The imagery excels here and makes the reader feel every emotion, wonderful! xoxo