I have seen sinners saved
from bloody knees,
and heard angels sing
from holy things.
But you, my love,
are the bells that ring,
in a heathen’s choir
when the devil sings.
© Nicole Lyons 2017
A slip of Heaven
I have seen sinners saved
from bloody knees,
and heard angels sing
from holy things.
But you, my love,
are the bells that ring,
in a heathen’s choir
when the devil sings.
© Nicole Lyons 2017
the maiden, mother and caffeinated crone
Poetry and prose by Basilike Pappa
collective of indie-published writers & readers who want to discover them
I'll write as long as my lines live
they peal
we would feel
the need to heal
and deal with it
now
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Love, passionate love, knows not of any boundary between heaven and hell. Its soul is heathen, attuned to nature’s older order than those illusions.
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Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
Nicole sings to a lover.
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Reblogged this on A Global Divergent Literary Collective and commented:
Nicole Lyons
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