Guest guest Posted December 17, 2002 Report Share Posted December 17, 2002 A Plume Of Crimson Red... In restful sleep my thoughts ascended, and I became aware, there was a plume of crimson red, just weightless in the air. Pressed against ink-stained night, the contrast seemed to be, that words were waiting to express, in written form for me. The plume was smooth and silky, held firmly in my hand, tangible words issued forth, in terms hard to understand. How could I write with no ink? as I uttered to the sky, “Use life's blood of thy heart,” came from a voice on high. The plume at first moved slowly, it wrote of all mankind, Inkling’s of compassion here and there, for everyone to find. Every word was a declaration, which was easy to define, an old wooden cross still stands tall, enlightenment divine. Rough notes were scribbled down, it’s meaning understood, the piercing soul does not see, when heart is made of wood. The nib that wrote sharp as thorn, made its mark on earth, since that time long ago, we detect words of mighty worth. Roaming on the edge of night, passion took me by surprise, a central theme came to life, pensive love before my eyes. Pinkish imprints on each page, by a plume of crimson red, writing a little here and there, by ink-stained nights ahead. © 1996 by Harold A. Sutton -------------------------- Hello Friends, I hope that you have a good day. Thought I would send out one of my poems today. Hope that you enjoy it. Kindest Regards, Harold http://gemsofsoul.tripod.com --- Outgoing mail is certified Virus Free. Checked by AVG anti-virus system (http://www.grisoft.com). Version: 6.0.427 / Virus Database: 240 - Release 06/12/02 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Recommended Posts
Join the conversation
You are posting as a guest. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.