In tender repose,
wrapped in the deep indigo of night,
I amused myself with the sky,
fingertips dancing across the astral loom,
weaving stars and planets together,
a web of constellations and space,
knotting the heart of me to those heavenly bodies.
I whispered my dreams along the tether,
secrets reverberating - tin cup telephone.
They cradle the lucidity in moonbeams
which drip from willowed hoop -
feathers of crows, shimmering,
like oil swirling on black asphalt.
Only hopeful fantasy is sieved through -
sprinkling down upon raven lashes
that flutter with the breeze of yawning.
The tendrils of mycelium below me
tuck me into an emerald blanket of green
while the wolves howl -
lullabies that bring slumber.
Even the crickets still,
as if the world itself has sighed -
surrendering to reverent peace.
About the Creator
Ellie Hoovs
Breathing life into the lost and broken. Writes to mend what fire couldn't destroy. Poetry stitched from ashes, longing, and stubborn hope.
My Poetry Collection DEMORTALIZING is out now!!!: https://a.co/d/5fqwmEb
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More stories from Ellie Hoovs and writers in Poets and other communities.
My New Book is Finally Here
My poetry collection Beautiful and Brutal Things is done. It's actually done and finally published over 270 pages. Over a year of my life went into this book. More than a year, really. Long days at my computer, sometimes seven days a week because I couldn't stop even when I probably should have. Then two months of editing that felt harder than the writing itself. But it's finished, and I'm still standing, and the book is real.
By Tim Carmichael3 days ago in BookClub
Comments (2)
Very nice, Ellie. I think I need a dreamcatcher.
lovely, The image of weaving at an Astral loom is a great one. <3