White Feather Poem by Paul Brookes
White Feather
the white raven drops a feather
it floats on eddies swirling.
legend say she is an omen of good fortune
so I pick up the feather and begin to write.
the scarlet ink's red and blood sharp
as tangy as iron.
will it I wonder make me seer,
reveal the Muses secrets?
the Muse look frozen and no answers come.
Thursday, August 6, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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4/26/2024 4:09:53 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Very nice poem, Paul. I've never heard of a white Raven before. Do they really exist?