Poems

 The Prince of Tides

“I blaze with a deep sullen magic,

 smell lust like a heron on fire; 

all words I form into castles 

then storm them with soldiers of air. 

What I seek is not there for asking.

My armies are fit and well trained.

This poet will trust her battalions 

to fashion her words into blades.

At dawn I shall ask them for beauty, 

for proof that their training went well. 

At night I shall beg their forgiveness 

as I cut their throats by the hill. 

My navies advance through the language,

destroyers ablaze in high seas. 

I soften the island for landings.

With words, I enlist a dark army. 

My poems are my war with the world. 

I blaze with a deep southern magic. 

The bombardiers taxi at noon. 

There is screaming and grief in the mansions 

and the moon is a heron on fire.”

Man wonders but God decides

When to kill the Prince of tides.

― Pat Conroy, The Prince of Tides

Bwahahahahahahahhaha my heart will go onnnnnnn near far wherever you are bwahahahaha

no point, just cause 

Cool. Nice poem.

thanks