Poetry / spirit fly
The ice chilled rain drops are falling
as the hair on my neck is rising
warriors are calling
wile the Sky’s eternally falling
tear drops fall and shoot up wards
Christianity kills the true believers
theirs a sword in the stone
that no one can clasp
grass it grows under ever green trees at last
the Ora of the forest is felt
wile girls hold hands
and dance a round a five pointed stair
say your chants the old Celtic way
for to marrow i die
wile to day i pray
who ever license no gods
just a friend
when the wolfs began their howls
put me on a boat a wood one if you please
a silver quoter in each eye
shoot a arrow up in to the sky
and then watch my spirit fly
spirit fly
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The language and imagery is very nice and sometime beautiful; I especially like the final lines. Your spelling is not standard English, but your language is sophisticated, so I’m not sure if you’re from a different country than America. Send me an email if you want a line by line spelling adjustment. The sentiment is lovely here!
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