poetry critical

online poetry workshop


I am sitting in the rain,
my eyes closed, breathing the wind,
washing away the hated pain,
the chains of sorrow fading.
The horses fly on the horizon,
blanketing my painted soul,
making me laugh for no reason;
drop by drop, the rain falls.
The peacocks cry and I am deaf
to the shouts of pride and gain,
closing my eyes to shaming theft,
the rain washes away the stains.
When the angels rise to the call
of wind and sea and fearful storm,
their shadows dance on empty walls,
in the rainbows they take form.
Still I sit on this wet grass,
watching the stars crowding the sky,
the clouds forever racing past;
it will soon be my turn to cry.

4 May 18

(define the words in this poem)

Add A Comment:
Enter the following text to post as unknown: captcha