The fields I have ran into
Are littered with remains of life
Or is it of death?
Which leaves the blackest traces?
Death leaves lips coldly ripped by the black air
Unbathed maggots buried under fingernails
That dig into worm infested nothingness
With a touch of evil
Seeking the evil touch of hungry lice.
Life leaves bones of sorrow
Wrapped in a skin pierced by wandering voices
That stampede into the ruined arena
Of the bare heart where half-bodied mouths
Shout 'yay' 'yay' 'yay'
Like the wind that escaped the air.
Now in the fields I have ran into
I am pursued by a carcass of gold
With a hunger like lace in frost;
I cannot make it to the stage tomorrow
For I will either be running or running.
All I can give to the wind
Whose howl reeks of blinding haste,
Is a knife I keep for my safety
That I've only ever had to use against me;
For such is what I am, where I'm from,
We brandish the knife when we retire.
Morning never comes to those who are chased-
I've never seen it.
I don't want to run for this most infinite of pursuers
Somehow cares for me; asking me of my interests,
Enquiring into my unseen hours
No I cannot run...
But do not catch me, do not catch me now
I will bury my head into the uniform soil
And pretend I can't see you.
Life smells
Life smells of uncharted woods trampled by empty shells
Aimed at other smells that soar on yellow air
The creeks ask the olive trees:
"Do you have brothers?"
"Yes but they are now rootless trunks
That smell of frogs rotting in red sewage."
O leave me now, in the fields
I'll not fight you; I'll compromise
I'll sleep under a blanket of cold that becomes my consience
And let my blood flow only through branches
So they may wither when starved of love.
Just make sure no one finds me
Or else they'll parade me in an open box
Before I've even lost.
A contest entry
- Anything Goes by karmacae.
700 points, ended February 14, 2008, 67 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - PREWRITES!!!!!! by Luminescence.
450 points, ended March 5, 2008, 69 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
great poem... a bit long but it fitted it... my favourite stanza had to be:
Now in the fields I have ran into
I am pursued by a carcass of gold
With a hunger like lace in frost;
I cannot make it to the stage tomorrow
For I will either be running or running.
Loved that one,
Thank you so much for entering your peice into my contest... and good luck,
~lumin -
This poem is amazing. I agree about the latent rhythm and I love the ending.
I do have a little problem though, and maybe it's the grammar nazi in me, but it's have run, not have ran. Unless you were doing that on purpose, which would be interesting. -
As far as poetry goes this is inexistent, but between the lines there is a rhythm, a rhythm born from melancholy.It's as if this poem was never written but it was FELT.And one cannot read these lines but one can feel them.This is art, it is not abstract, it is not planned, but it is alive!
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