These old hands are cracked and flecked with brown spots like the spotted underbelly of an old dog. I’ve killed with these hands, in the name of one called king.
By Corrin Harris7 months ago in Poets
Silence upon the mountain, Its belly hums from the depths, Its song is old and full of sadness. So many colors and so many scars,
By Corrin Harrisabout a year ago in Poets
Strength and glory upon his head, Displays the royal rack of kings. The elk’s antlers soon will shed, Its glorious and velvety sheen.
By Corrin Harris2 years ago in Poets
Resentment catches in my throat, Sometimes it takes me by surprise. Perhaps, it simply may denote Emotions like anger in disguise.
Sticky sweet summer air, Longer days and shorter nights. A strawberry moon; so sweet and fair. Lovers revel in her blushing light.
No one has ever looked at me so deeply, as you have. Sometimes your brown eyes are so dark they seem black. Please, let me sink to the depths of your perception.
That which guides you forward, Pulls at you from afar. The call to move you onward, is reflected in a star. Perhaps at first you stumble,
Settled upon a horse of black, His blade and shield in tow. A choice made, to not turn back. For her liberty, did he go.
Once I read about The Red Tent, it was a place where the women went, for counsel and to bleed. It made me crave a place like that,
Oh gentle heart, Warrior of a different kind. May faith impart, A more benevolent mind. Your so brave, Warrior of a different kind.
Gaia, mother of all creatures; Of land, sky, and sea. Great teacher of teachers, Strength, love, and serenity. She hid a secret deep inside,
Keeper of my heart, And gentle loving soul. I have loved you from the start, I just wanted you to know. My sunshine in the morning,
