Daily poem: Terza Rima stanza 15

 

And white clouds billow after stormy skies.

But every little death is still a loss,

and we can join the mother when she cries.

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From the growling stars

I paid the Oracle two visits in quick succession as the first message seemed not quite right somehow. The second visit gave a poem that is completely unequivocal.

 

The moon rocksScreen Shot 2018-07-14 at 16.51.22

on stormy seas,

heaving with wind and rain.

 

Shadows on the sun sweat blood

beneath these cool blue skies,

whisper me music to die for.

 

 

Dogs are angelsScreen Shot 2018-07-14 at 17.09.49

from the growling stars,

old as the oceans

with their ghost fish.

Wild hearts

in the dark of night time,

ask only for a bit of love

and a soft voice