Whispers Speak

Amber morn the had sun a spurned
And there was life among the swarms
And here we are and such is rife
Nectar be the seed, by which there's life

Betwixt by nine and cast in rhyme
There is sense between these lines
Praise be ours, unless were beaten
Such is life and less is sweetened

Raise not one hand in youth
Then be impaled and bound in truth
Ruthless be thy wicked hand
Brethren, be the heart of men

What light from where and to where too bright
But alas farewell before this night
Solemn be the sounds of thunder
Beneath the skies of endless wonder

Wonder now or wonder not
In which there's tears and some are hot
None are bound unless they're weak
Beneath the soil, whispers speak

Sown in silk and milky thread
Such are the trails by which we tread

| Poetry 1 | Poetry 2 | Poetry 3 | Poetry 4 |

| Poetry 5 | Poetry 6 | Poetry 7 | Poetry 8 |

| Poetry 9 | Poetry 10 | Poetry 11 | Poetry 12 |

| Poetry 13 |

Copyright © Darryn John Murphy