walking the wild queen

[wytchcroft]

 

and later on we walk the wild queen home
the petals of her heart
with the wires exposed
she was born of water
we were stepping stones

all the breath scented air
all our candle light
dancing in between
the bishop and his bones

through the valley and its shadows
through the forest and its zones
pieces of machinery
singing as we go

nights under heaven
where the full moon shines
the wild queen leaves footprints  
footprints the colour of wine.

Comments

[inmyocean.livejournal.com]

You're so right, it could come down to being names upon names. I have a thing for Shakespeare, Eliot and Plath as well, to name a few we seem to have in common. :) Cummings and Blake are right there, high on my list, as well.

I don't believe anyone can compare themselves to another writer, even if the stylings are similar they can never be the same or of the exact calibre and it's ridiculous to hope for such a thing. Writers should just be themselves, in my opinion. It's the beauty of creation, finding another voice to add to the (growing) mix. :)

Again, you're lovely. It's people like you, Regina and the others I hold in esteem here in lj that help my writing grow. So, I thank you. :)