The Cotton and the Chill

[luthien]

Cool morning air
spills through the curtains
drifting...
like mindless wraiths.
They brush upon
the nights now distant tirade
of empty glasses and
brimming ashtray.

All sentiments loll
in the last dregs;
the heated passion
now cooling
in the
debris by the bed.
Gently
rain patters
a rhyme
on the trees outside;
and something listless,
waits;
somewhere between
the cotton and the chill.


The mind still numbed
drifts through torpid pools.
Ripples extend over their silent depths
evoking secluded musings;
melodies
tunes
fusing with the flesh,
a quixotic blend
an intoxicated death.

Such opulence and splendour,
fills my heart
such a baneful cup
I’ve kissed,
but temperance
was sleeping
while the soul endured this bliss.
As morning rises
consciousness struggles
to find its spectrum,
the hearts perfection;
a mechanism
to close its cellar door,
this hotel california
this Avalon, with its glistening shore.

Luthien08

[megli]

That's one of the most original 'pagan' poems I've ever read. Whiff of Ani DiFranco there ;0

[arth_frown]

Genius!

[luthien]

Thanks for your kind responses!
I didn’t know who Ani DiFranco was until I just googled her! And yes I see some similarity there! Thanks for that.

B

Luthien