Frames of the World

Grit. Silently.
Underneath seethes a tense fire.
Dragonbreath speckles out.
            Roaring shriek.
Only heard in vibrations.

Agitation. Cracking.
Shelters give out their defense
and become weight. (One’s release
is another’s compression.)
Hearts falter.

In the loneliness of terror.
Beneath the impervious sky.
Tears are the loudest sound.
                        Wail.
No quaking of the earth’s bones
can equal the shuddering grief
in its wake.

Copyright 2011 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.

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10 thoughts on “Frames of the World

  1. The days will come on the earth that you describe. We should all prefer not to be here. Yet, out of torment will arise greatness, courage, and immortality for those that steadfastly resist Evil. I capitalize Evil because evil will be personified during these short years of travail such as earth has not experienced ever before or will after.

    I’ve not read such torment in poetry that I remember. You state it succinctly and with a depth of compassion. Blessings to you, Michael…

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