Sunday, April 26, 2009

Written for Donna L. Wilson

Anchored Voice

Destiny shouts toward waiting valley of far away land
Over stoic remnants of paths long, loping bridge dreams
Never seeking relief from tortured wind and moon beams
Needing fateful sparkled slumber of past reckless stand.

Anchored voice stands steeply silent in staid casks
Looming upon a drenched tale of nightmare tasks
Woven within weeds last chance of halting crest
Images lunge into vortex stalled under the breast.

Lurching forward toward shiny shutter of blue hue
Standards waver beneath burning ember strands of flame
Open taste of seas tirade against granite under blame
Now comes time of seasons just bill is due.
Robert Dodson
April 26, 2009
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