Finally a new poem ^^

A restless midday storm erased

her patterns in this cold grey sand,

and now its twisted vines replace

the crawling veins on weathered hands

which tepid skies encase.


On misty sheets of water rise

in swirling specks against the wind

a hunderd gulls whose moaning cries

stop short as churning torrents rend

their panicked sounds' demise.


Burst through these wooden planks impaled

by twisted spikes gone red with rust!

A streak of jagged light exhales

and slashes through ten years of dust

to pry each sodden nail.


She lifts her chin and silently

demands the storm to lash her face

to whip and break the savage sea--

smash to dust her fallen grace

and shattered, she'll pour free.


She breaks a bottle, lets it slip

As if the whipping wind could lash,

Could drag it gently from her grip--

She smiles,

and the green shards flash

between her parted lips.