The Heron Across The Black Lake (Poetry) i. my word is a heron trying to swallow its fishbut the bare bones spike against the bitter bills. across the hill over the black lake drowns the words that i cannot say. ii. so i find solace in echoes of the skybut do not seek the lineage callfor the clouds swallow softlywhen they … Continue reading The Heron Across The Black Lake (Poetry)

Sunday Stanza: Poem Thirty Six- Illusions By Hannah Williams

When the moonlight reflects a mirage Wait for the sun to say it's an illusion. Don't rely on the mind which makes a faint figure Yet sight and sound tells us its called perception. Once materialised where do illusions go? Maybe above and beyond the fading rainbow.