A trilogy of poems

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I wrote a set of poems out of raw emotion. I was sitting in my school library when I wrote these and I'll admit, it was very therapeutic to finish these poems. I hope you all enjoy. Thank you for reading my poems!

Submitted: February 21, 2017

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Content

Submitted: February 21, 2017

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I.

It never stops

Ignoring toes’ plea

Soles bound to the Earth

As they walk upon these tiny shores

 

It never stops

Hands moving all the same

One in front of the other

Circling the endless path

 

It never stops

Unwinding in the air

Pulsing through veins

Tilting and rotating all around

 

It never stops

Trails splitting

And streams forming

Following the pace unnerved

 

It never stops

From green to brown

And brown to green

All the same

 

It continues

Voices growing distant

Soles beginning to burn

Buried beneath the tiny shores

 

It continues

Fingers rusting

And losing rhythm

Trudging along the infinite

 

It continues

Lost in the air

Pulsing through discolored veins

Moving past the still

 

It continues

Trails unmet

And streams to end

Developing a rhythm of new

 

It continues

From light to dark

And dark to light

It stays the same

 

 

 

 

 

II.

Number 50

Where are you now?

Where does the crimson flow?

Striding through the passages

 

Number 50

The bearer of fortune

An absence of such divine blessing

And a present of the past

 

Number 50

Where is the fountain?

Of such youth

Spinning in circulation

 

Number 50

Where are you?

 

 

 

 

 

III.

A gale in the distance

One of many tales

And endless screams

The disfiguring stability

 

Mane of the beast

Seen through the whirlwinds above

Ferocious roars shaking the seams below

The core draws near

 

A beating center

Rhythmically authentic but foreboding

Riding on the territories yet to be

Carried by the distant tempest

 

The claws

Constantly seeking

With precision and efficiency

Marked by all as daft about

 

The earth beneath trembles

With the closing of the beast

The low grumbling;

The shadow of its posture

 

Quivering from fruitless efforts

Brace yourself

For the beast’s gale

Is just one of many tales


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