My finely woven hands...Lines grow, And shapes form, Faces and voices, Yesterday was another day, Words spilled blue into The way they knew, They were true. This has been a good winter, There was hate and laughter, Loss still waits, Forever the guardian of want; That was endlessly drawn, Never complete, but never gone, Always the ornament of tomorrow, The face of a lost child… This has been a good winter, Minn hjarta er pungbaer Med pinn verndari, kaer ,My finely woven hands...
Pogull kaerasta, eg sja og ser.
HomeYour bones they drown Drown inside your skin Your features thinHome
What they could have been
I ask your blood to dance And there your mouth it smiles You know what my words meant
You have lived too long
You said to me, a whisper without tone Fingers tense, tense along your throat And down it goes, the liquid flows And then surrounds, surrounds your soul Your heart it plays on forever It beats your mind and that time That time I think you broke I rest across your breast Supple, smooth,
I’ll know you soon
The Sad Dance of the PuppeteerHave you asked me to stay, For who’s sake do I enter, Do I stake claim in this foray? The others will never come, I know this to be true. Lovely deception seeps into My features as they twist and try, Try to remain motionless a second time, The deed is done now girl, The air is green with your thoughts, You leave the room, and my vision is lost, I’m lead on, but forever in jest, Eyes laid to rest on a cross in your heart, Crucified, alone for all my sins, Euthanized and cursed again and again, We have done nothing, faithful mark, But yoThe Sad Dance of the Puppeteer
Boats Harboured in the Soul...On the sand I’ve come to lie Always saving breathes from time In urns I’ve made of clay and sweat They surround my peaceful resting place. One lone jar contains my soul Though it’s lost in these monuments, For to search among those living familiarities Would mean a lifetime of moment’s lost So instead I slave, my castle built In a jar myself, I wait, the ashes of a solemn youth And fold the virtues of an ancient girl Who’s statue rests along the shore Her hands outstretched, brave, though blue, And the face a work of art so grave.Boats Harboured in the Soul...
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My Portfolio
Katie Franke
Traditional Art Gallery Moderator
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i used to be here
but now im gone
Have a beautiful day!
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My Portfolio
Katie Franke
Traditional Art Gallery Moderator
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