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The Whailing Whisper by Charlie Cole




A voice rips through the verdant

floor

Cracks its earth till its lives

no more

The echoes find ethereal

realms

Hanging high atop the dying

elms

Shout, kick, and cry my

Queen

Let them see your pearly white’s

sheen

Words make quick work of the

wood

Creating worlds where once nothing

stood

Face the moon and let her

alight

Trade brightest sunbeams for darkest

night

Your charge raging faster than all

fire

Not letting anything be your

occupier

Never falling only floating swiftly

above

The banshee call of a mournful

dove

A voice is returning, now, listen

low

The gaining ground of a mighty

tornado

Wrestle that power back it is

yours

Beat down the coast of distant

shores

This forest moves calmly once it is

done

With your song commanded you’ve already

won


ABOUT:


Charlie Cole (she/her) is a writer, editor, and photographer masquerading as an office drone. Her works can be found in such publications and organizations as To Write Love on Her Arms, Snowflake Magazine, and Cream Scene Carnival Magazine. When she's not writing or working she enjoys overly analyzing movies, petting all the dogs, and attempting to satiate her sweet tooth. Cole believes in imbuing her work with vulnerability, tenacity, humor, and always a dash of eccentricity. Follow on Instagram plus Threads @charliecolepresents and Medium: @charliecole.


POET'S INSPO CHOICE:  The Witching Hour — Emily Magpie





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