The virgin orange, newly plucked
Has turned black in my hands
For they have turned sick,
Lost in love's barren lands.
The virgin orange, newly plucked
Weeps for the procession
Of the funeral mourners
For death comes in one session.
The virgin orange, newly plucked
Suffers from my black touch
For love is an eternal funeral
Only the orange and I feel as much.
As the virgin orange, newly plucked
Yearns in vain to return to its tree
So I yearn in vain
For her with whom I can never be.
Oh virgin orange, newly plucked
(Oh, woah, ay-y)
Oh virgin orange, newly plucked
(Oh, woah, ay-y)
With sorrow I toast the earth
The Good Mother desires only sacrifice
I have no blood to give
My body survibes on black sighs.
A contest entry
- Love me or burn me by Shadowfang.
300 points, ended March 20, 2008, 14 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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i love this it is some thing different that flows verry well, in deed!
keep it up
KNIGHT TIME
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I like the repetition of the virgin orange newly plucked. This was an interesting poem. Keep up the good job.
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