Whispers In A Thunderstorm Poem by Marshall E Gass

Spacious splendour trapped in an airless cage
my mind bends in the undercurrents of rage
What was it I last heard spoken in the fragments of peace
Jason escapes the Argonauts-The Fleece?

Draped across his shoulders still dripping warmish blood
Noah and his cranky yacht-floating in the flood
Did Jesus really turn the loaves and fishes into food
Or did he mesmerise the masses to make it sound so good?

The 'whispers' that I speak of are outside human thought
Like pearls so locked in shells that divers bravely fought
Once it breaks the surface, the bargaining then begins
Vanity a thirst, unable to conquer sins

These whispers that I speak of, are quiet in a storm
They won't support the Thunder or any peaceful calm
They are just words so placed in har-mony
They may mean so little-but more than you can see!
Author Notes

Yeah. That's it. All symbolism encased in oyster shells. You have to dig deep to find out what I mean? If you do find out, write me a comment. Its okay if its a nasty one. I'm used to brickbats. Evolutionary processes have made me develop a thick skin! Thanks

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, a month ago