Eyes piercing,
Emeralds in the mist.
Her hair as black as any heart,
My blood still on her lips.
She speaks to me of irony,
Her calling that of love.
Singing such sweet harmony
As she kills the innocent dove.
Yet I still gaze upon her face
My angel from above.
She speaks to me in Anarchy
Where disillusionment abounds.
Tells me of the way things were,
And why peace can't be found.
Order comes from chaos,
Our love it flows from hate.
This life a candle lit in darkness;
Blown out by chance or fate.
She speaks to me of all these things,
Though I don't understand.
My illusions failed me long ago,
That's why this story began.
I called out in vain
For the immortal lie.
I longed to end this pain.
I didn't really want to die,
Only to never feel again.
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
Perhaps "..Quiet Storm" will help rekindle old flames buried and long forgotten or express the love so deeply locked inside of your soul longing to be released.
Regardless of where you may be found in love this beautiful masterpiece can be
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