Praying for rain to
Wash away the tears of blood
Prostrate in supplication
That my anxious beggings should be sent away
The only entrance fee to the
Temple of inspiration is agony
Bathing in milky charity
Dropping the coin
Only if everyone can see.
Unwilling to heal the pain
The only thing fueling the life-giving fire
Energizing the images
Springing to life from broken fingers.
Living in fear of the day
Anger fades
Without it, who will remember
The injustices living in our bodies and minds?
Once proof of concept has been provided
Showing we can stand in the
Hallowed place we once sat
Once inducted, do we
Then keep at it, make it a habit, ritualize it?
Undaunted by the lack of saintly recognition
Driven back to creation in the naked black
We all must live for the love of the act
Pouring ourselves into the arcane craft
Soul bound to our calling
Infusing each work with rapturous intent
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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CH 20~ Party Down
Argento’s ninth (eighteenth in earth years) Birthday came and went Thursday, the thirteenth, and he’d already received his father’s gift, if you could call it that. You had to commit a fairly serious infraction to be cut off; the Arch-Baron was keeping up appearances and maintaining his own reputation as much as any sense of love or attachment to Argento with his “gift.”
By K.B. Silver Exclusive • 7 days ago
Comments (2)
Wow love how deep this poem is.
🦋