Swimming in my breast with thunderous silence
Perfectly self-assured and imperishable
Refusing to follow ruling or precedence
Marriage and childbirth be damned
Hounding happily, then tearing at the tenderest flesh
Salvation and damnation lustily in league
Bubbling over, then sinking all the way down
Just memories, memories…
But remembered more by heart than mind
So to be perfectly preserved, as if by magic spell
Try to breach them with reason, I dare you!
Retreating from this sanctum, singed
It’s as the subtle rhythms of pumping life
Of chambers that once welcomed the anointer
Endless hide and seek with the sanctum’s servants
Lost to be found, only phantoms and echoes
Past pains and elations, forever renewed
Where are you, great honored guest?!
The only one that freely explored the sanctum
Enlivening, illuminating now frail and darkened flesh
Haunting the halls by which we know we’re alive
About the Creator
Nick Jameson
Of the philosopher-poet mold, though I'm resistant to molds. I'm a strongly spiritual philosophical writer and progressive ideologue. I write across genres, including fiction, non-fiction and poetry. Please see my website infiniteofone.com.
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The Devil's Triangle
The sails ruffled in the breeze as we cruised along. The Sea Breeze was a mid-size catamaran that sailed out of Royal Naval Dockyard in Bermuda. We had booked this trip weeks in advance and were now looking at our Captain, Spike and two boat hands. Paddy and Wilson seemed like nice guys, joking around with the passengers and telling us some stories about Bermuda that only locals would know. Their island accents sounded almost British but they were pleasant to listen to.
By Barbara Gode Wiles7 days ago in Fiction
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