Poetic-Verses
Hi, my name is Ebony Rose and I’m 17.
I’ve been writing poetry for about 3 years now, it comes very naturally and I’d say I can’t really survive without it! It keeps me sane so to speak, but then at the same time drives me insane… strange that.
I write about my feelings, emotions, experiences, delusions, anything I can think of and every that I don’t until it appears on the paper in front of me.
My favourite writer is Tennessee Williams, an absolute genius and idol. There is no play, book or poem I have read that it is possible to dislike. Reading for the sake of reading because every word gives such pleasure…
Lament for the moths
“A plague has stricken the moths, the moths are dying,
their bodies are flakes of bronze on the carpet lying.
Enemies of the delicate everywhere
have breathed a pestilent mist into the air.
Lament for the velvety moths, for the moths were lovely.
Often their tender thoughts, for they thought of me,
eased the neurotic ills that haunt the day.
Now an invisible evil takes them away.
I move through the shadowy rooms, I cannot be still,
I must find where the treacherous killer is concealed.
Feverishly I search and still they fall
as fragile as ashes broken against a wall.
Now that the plague has taken the moths away,
who will be cooler than curtains against the day,
who will come early and softly to ease my lot
as I move through the shadowy rooms with a troubled heart?
Give them, O mother of moths and mother of men,
strength to enter the heavy world again,
for delicate were the moths and badly wanted
here in a world by mammoth figures haunted!”
By Tennessee Williams
I’ve been writing poetry for about 3 years now, it comes very naturally and I’d say I can’t really survive without it! It keeps me sane so to speak, but then at the same time drives me insane… strange that.
I write about my feelings, emotions, experiences, delusions, anything I can think of and every that I don’t until it appears on the paper in front of me.
My favourite writer is Tennessee Williams, an absolute genius and idol. There is no play, book or poem I have read that it is possible to dislike. Reading for the sake of reading because every word gives such pleasure…
Lament for the moths
“A plague has stricken the moths, the moths are dying,
their bodies are flakes of bronze on the carpet lying.
Enemies of the delicate everywhere
have breathed a pestilent mist into the air.
Lament for the velvety moths, for the moths were lovely.
Often their tender thoughts, for they thought of me,
eased the neurotic ills that haunt the day.
Now an invisible evil takes them away.
I move through the shadowy rooms, I cannot be still,
I must find where the treacherous killer is concealed.
Feverishly I search and still they fall
as fragile as ashes broken against a wall.
Now that the plague has taken the moths away,
who will be cooler than curtains against the day,
who will come early and softly to ease my lot
as I move through the shadowy rooms with a troubled heart?
Give them, O mother of moths and mother of men,
strength to enter the heavy world again,
for delicate were the moths and badly wanted
here in a world by mammoth figures haunted!”
By Tennessee Williams
