Wrath

abdiel-and-satan.jpg

Drips of cold water
like the language of old gods,
their anguish unfurled,
drop neatly
on my lips
heavy with the cold.
Shivers rebound
furied messages, so far untold,
till my ears burst
and wither –
I die neither from drowning
or spirit that has grown old.

Author: Anita Lubesh

I write poetry/prose/stories/short stories/verses for children/sketch/and have 6 chapters of a novel sitting there like that half eaten trifle in the fridge or bottle of Jack Daniels because something makes you afraid to eat it or drink... right now.. I am a proud Geordie from England's northern hemisphere and the beautiful city of Newcastle upon Tyne. I live with my lovely husband who came all the way from sunny California just for me, and my favourite animal, Bobble, our dog. I am a member of Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth and wish we could all do more, especially today, when such a lot is wrong.

8 thoughts on “Wrath”

  1. Gosh, Anita. This is brilliantly done. Especially here:

    “their anguish unfurled,
    drop neatly
    on my lips
    heavy with the cold.”

    The imagery in the above lines set the tone for the piece to me.

    Liked by 2 people

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s