Sunday, June 11, 2017


Whisper of the Ice That Burned

The oceans were on fire
And the sky was dry as dust
Blood red tears ran down my face
The color of old rust.

Outside looking in
Upside down and up
Rain was pouring from the hole
In my battered silver cup.

The horses flew in wingless flight
On alabaster roads
With armored shoes upon their hooves
Tapping out the codes.

And angels, ah, the angels
Watching from below
Heaving sighs from their pursed lips
At what I did not know.

The stars on furrowed, fertile fields
Lit the clouds above
Wondering how they came to fall
From dark skies that they loved.

And I, in constant deep dismay
Walked the desert sand
Holding woe clutched to my heart
And dread within my hand.

Here and there, a nightingale
Cursed the burning night
Singing in an unknown tongue
With eyes devoid of sight.

Thorns and thistles vining high
Above the heads of trees
Encroaching and enclosing me
Empowered by my pleas.

Skeletons that wore no flesh
Dancing by my side
Mocking, ever mocking me
And my flesh arrayed in pride.

'Twas then I knelt on blackened ground
Begging for the bliss
Hungry for a human heart
Starving for a kiss.

But in the twilight of that hour
There was no human near
My voice in echoes answered back
And magnified the fear.

I saw great blocks of ice on fire
Saw mountains humbled low
Valleys full of hurricanes
And it was forty-nine below.

But then from somewhere far away
There came a gentle word
I raised my head to look around
Wondering what I'd heard.

"Don't go to sleep." the whisper said
"To sleep will make this seem
That all is well down here in Hell
For this is not a dream."

©by Voo
Sept 30, 2010
11:01 p.m.