Rocks, sharpened rocks
one foot in width
Place from corner to corner,
place side by side
One hundred feet high
soaring turrets in the sky
Great keen thoughts
could never shake its foundation.
All of us were just xenos
imprisoned by circumstance inside.
By the power of our will,
with our heart's desire,
we'll struggle to escape
and to be free.
If not, let our thoughts fly.
Let us leave our flesh body.

Poetry by Winston Latanafrancia Soldevilla
Read 574 times
Written on 2007-10-04 at 15:52

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Your use of metaphor is very prominent in your poems, as it is with this one....I enjoy searching out the meanings and the thoughts you convey. Nice work.

Lea Foverskov
i like this - the image of the sharp rocks, splitting the body and the soul, flesh and ideas. good job!