- Non-Erotic Poetry
- She Was
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The rage lives within her,
Dormant at the moment, but
Smoldering the next.
A flower goes to bed a bud,
Wakes bloomed to the sun.
Tangible force, as a blacksmith
Removes his iron rod from the forge,
Emanating with heat waves. Previous
Mightiness, a bright and lively eruption,
Died down to only heat beneath the skin.
A flower blooms, opens so slowly, it is
Suddenly open before my eyes; trick of
The mind. I push the petals back in,
They’ve opened back up by the next day.
Who is she; someone I once knew?
- COMMENTS
Migbirdalmost 2 years agoSimply want to say enjoyed both poems recently posted — like all good poetry, so much packed within/between the lines, so must ponder/enjoy over and … . Thanks.
