As the subject implies, this is a poem I wrote for a school poetry project. When you read it please keep in mind that I hate poetry and I'm not very good at writing it either.
~Hushed Wisdom~
Wisdom, the secret constantly moving like scattered ashes in the wind
Smoke of ancient shamans wind in and out of the turned autumn leaves with wisdom
Unable to speak but able to feel with hands not touching
Mouth sewn shut with a poison needle and thread
A mute, unable to speak over the howling winds of ridicule
Mouth stuffed with pages of years of research
Eyes blinded by arrogance
 Organic Paranoia · Mon Jul 09, 2007 @ 09:44pm · 1 Comments |
