The feathered boy said:
“The day is done
The war is gone”
The feathered boy said
“Amongst the dread
Amongst bloody napes
And the lowered heads
Our feathers abound
That will become capes
That fall from clouds
Are white stairs winding
Past a golden drape
For war torn men
And men unbecoming
And daring souls so soothe
Your hearts in red heaven”
About the Creator
Octovo Libra
Instagram: @libracymbaspoems
Twitter : @libracymbalspoems
And my poetry Hell Is Like A Dog Kennel and other poems
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Message Me Afterwards
>That was a bad idea. I thought you knew… >Oh, the pathos! I don’t really know you as well as I should. In fact, I may not know the real you at all. That essential, sparkling you that you only reveal to a select few. Had I been paying more attention to the stories you are so fond of telling, in which you are invariably author, narrator and protagonist, I would not have been so foolish as to set you up on a blind date. After all, no friend has ever done anything of the kind for another. That’s preposterous. What is a friend, really?
By D. J. Reddall5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
It's a gorgeous piece! ❤