Kenneth is a rural citizen of Hamilton, Ala., and has begun to observe life and certain things and people helping him to write about them.
His calling down one-thousand valley's nigh
Getting the grand mountain's face.
From bluebird's voice, softly, tender be the sky.
Carried away with tallowed race.
Oh, rocks, fallen into your realm so dark
Resting in forgotten foam.
Walking quickly, sharp knife clawing bark.
Whether she sleeps or whether she roams.
He lifts-up desperate intentions knowing life is gone.
Crawling to and fro, a dragon's call, a lie so true.
A shadow stalks her envied shape, his anger thrown.
Hide with me, depths of lore in valued blue.
Food, wine, and silver be hers; laughing loudly
Fool, woman, such a woman of fool's crowd.
If my tongue moved upward, I would hold fondly.
To her face I would gaze while bowed to her crowd.
Master gives white horses hooves upset
Riding through thin clouds and raindrops.
Rose candy fall from eternity trees beget.
Those like me simply fall and stop.
Her realm secured, her water pure in dark days pa
Counting moments, carrying sins to heat in sand.
Master's hurts fists, calls her awaken with thunder blast.
She, more than woman, I was a shadowed mortal man.
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© 2021 Kenneth Avery