Wicked
©2012, Olan L. Smith
She comes upon a harsh north wind and chills
My still beating heart; her fingers icy tendrils
Splay open my breast. I am paralyzed by fear; my mouth
Gapes; I gawk as she confiscate a frozen heart
And places it upon her mantel above icy flames.
It remains for an eternity never to beat
Till a beam perchance shines through her transom
And warms my soul, reanimating my heart of stone,
Rhythm is restored ― lub-dub... its commotion
Echoes through her chamber; I feared my warden
Wakes from her wintry incarnation to recapture
Her treasure. Alas, she remains in
Repose, a frozen smirk upon her face. My once
Frozen heart dances with joy and leaps down
Into my chest replacing stone with flesh
And I, vigorous, am still captive within a
High fortress of ice, tucked away
In hoarfrost; I draw near her and perceive
A liquid tear roll down her icy cheek to touch
Her snowy bed, a wonder as a wonton witch dissolves.
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Write Upon My Stone
Poetry"Write Upon My Stone" has turned into a collection of my poems about death, and other of my poems with dark themes. I will be adding to this collection with both new and older poems with those themes. Love, peace, and freedom. Olan L. Smith (aka...
