The Mountain Quakes Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

The Mountain Quakes



Tides of morning as clean as hope
Sweep the floor of the trite
Silver genius once in awhile
Something new must be inside
White shining garments
Unholy shrines on old horses
I wash in the sea

All political surprises have ended
Land growing miracle freedom
Dead sailors with skulls
Their ships in silent judgment
I know who I am
Shot down in war
Her balm must have anointing oil

The mountain quakes with oracles

Sunday, October 12, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: surprise
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kumarmani Mahakul 12 October 2014

A political surprise....indeed a beautiful poem.Go on writing.

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Joseph Narusiewicz

Joseph Narusiewicz

So St Paul, Minnesota
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