Poetry: Glorious


Returning heroes honored in ribbons,

The rich worshipped, their names whispered in awe

By envious lips; the champions face

The adoration of the crowds, who use

Victory in play as a substitute

For a deficit of hope and trophies.

But there is no power as glorious

As a woman who owns body and soul

Striding proud and naked into a room,

Ignoring flaws, alive with confidence that no one

That no one subdue the pure desire

Craving realization. If you hear

The ethereal voice, the eerie cry

Of oblivion, you have found glory.

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

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.