Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

Written while hung over, at Glastonbury in 2002. It was a rare sun filled morning and I was sat at the opening of the tent constructing this poem. I soon realised it was time to get my pen.

Submitted:Dec 30, 2007    Reads: 104    Comments: 1    Likes: 3   

Sliced portions of the sun

arrive upon the backs of tired butterflies

My dry morning skin

breathes oil of gratitude

Each formed bead of energy

rattles�within the closed�cannister of the day

Taps that control the flow of u.v.a.

closed as the maid of night steps near

The rumour is

the Sun and�her gown of glory

Shall again rise

letting her warm robe fall upon me


| Email this story Email this Poetry | Add to reading list


About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.