The Unknown Omen
Welkin Siskin lives in Seattle, Washington. He is the poet of varied nature, who writes on various themes. Poetry for him is the healing ointment of a heart destitute of vision.
He believes that poetry is the play of words, the change of verbs into nouns; the game of words surging through the heart's inside.
His poetry is the yearning for freedom, love, life, and the expression of the Nature that adorns the Universe- the mysterious eternity of the Infinite.
America
An unknown ghost makes a pass
Through the canopy of a well-built tiles;
Were they bunch of people or nymph-lass?
Sometimes they do pass through isles
Across the house; are they real apparition?
Or a tale of a mind, hallucinatory and fictitious?
How could one that scare of a form shun,
And how could one avoid being ambitious
To know what is it; it has brought an unknown impatience,
And yet it has created a dale of dreamlike fancy,
Will it go out of my way, my being and lanes;
Will it a good omen forever and evermore be?
May it be, immortal and deathless thing,
If it comes to touch, love and tend this being.