Inheriting the Wind

My mind was born in nursery rhyme and fable,

sprouting branch and leaf off story's marrow

root, sucking words from under my feet, the

salt washed ground against my toes,

song and verse, sands of a billion stars,

seeking pearls

My spirit was formed in the iambic sway of

grass across the hills, the wind beneath the notes

a stirring firey brand, folded flag awaiting flight,

quiet unfurling crescendo of thunder

rumbling toward a boulder filled, rock

chinked shore

My voice is a whisper of broken

shell and silver tooth chimes, of crystal born

prism twirling against acacia and driftwood,

a conch shell ancestral echo howling

across reflective moon drenched ocean,

awakened to words sung in yellow light

written line by line, in looping

sign wave, across

the expanse

of eloquent,

rippling sea

Reviews

[John Ryan]

the superfluous amount of metaphors in this piece is simply overwhelming.

wonderful piece of writing!

[DrD]

Certainly a master of metaphor, bringing words into the fabric of imagry is an art you've conquered. Absolutely beautiful.

[Kristina Moulaison]

Thank you for the kind review. I am enthralled by the power of words. Some day I would like to say I had mastered something of them. I suspect I will always be just trying to get a little better.

[New Theory]

Wow, this is a very beautiful description of the ocean, you are so good with words.
Simply awesome, how do you think this way?
Lots to learn here.

[Kristina Moulaison]

Thank you so much! I don't really know what to say to that. :) I so appreciate you reading.

[New Theory]

You are welcome :)