Some Call Her a Tempest

I closed my eyes,
As a leviathan splintered this mortal vessel,
With a crack of thunderous jaws-

A painted pair of ruby, red lips,
And a warm summer breeze found me;
I was sinking,
An icy, tidal force.

A solemn and austere face guided,
This orchestra-destruction;
An explosion of pummeling waves,
Broke my bones,
And collapsed my lungs-
Some sailors call her a tempest.

I felt lightness at the thought,
Of a sunshine-snow,
that is your hair,
It canvasses and drapes over,
Your swan like neck,
And slender, feathered shoulders.
But your eyes,
They are like the sea.
I awoke mid-peril,
To grapple the rigging;
How I flung to a destroyed mast,
To overcome,
To rechart another course-
I was left cursing a fate-ridden gale.

With bitterness,
As salt mingled with hot blood,
I closed my eyes,
To paint ruby lips.
Clinging to a summer breeze,
I was riven asunder,
To the darkness of nothing,
The twilight of sinking.


A Jilted Lover Promotional

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About A Foreign Sojourn

I am a Joe of many trades including professional cook, avid reader and ambitious adventurer-check out my latest photos and peruse my blogs for a sampling in regards to the worlds of eating and worldly adventures!
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