Forms born in the fires of earth
Ripped from their deeply hidden beds
Tortured and cut to please my eyes
Changed unrecognizably from birth
Color and passion unleashed
Zenith of beauty reached
Forms born in the fires of earth
To brilliant fire, the ice cold weds
In rainbows of light
They dazzle the sight
Ripped from their deeply hidden beds
Still miners dig where family lies
In the dark, alone
To them, it's just stone
Tortured and cut to please my eyes
Tortured and cut to please my eyes
Ripped from their deeply hidden beds
Forms born in the fires of earth
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Comments: 16
Thanks, Richard!
From the comment section, I see this glossa is also on the learning curve and rising. Not to worry. The only problem is with the non-borrowed text at the beginning. I truly admire how well woven this one turned out.
Many might gloss over these glossas, not realizing their reflective value. Still waters run deep. You’ve stirred your words well here. Appearing at Mindful Poetry where it is now featured.
I haven't had any poetry to contribute for a while - sometimes I go to the well and it's just dry, then one day there's more.