The candle wick is slowly aging into a withered stump,
as I search the dark chamber that holds my memories.
The trinkets that I come across have no meaning anymore.
I would have sworn, in years past, that they were important.
I've washed myself with the soap of time to get the grime off
and to clean myself of the unnecessaries of life that now clog this chamber.
Friends look at my face, it is but a screen, to shield them
of my gnarly hands that did many things that they wouldn't attest to believing.
I thrust my hands deeper into the icky film of my life's work.
I pray for that carrier pigeon that will come and deliver a message of forgiveness and relief.
A contest entry
- Wild Word Bank - 10/10/20 by Gypsie Ink.
450 points, ended April 28, 2008, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think!
Comments
-
Interesting
I believe we all come to this point at sometime...an thought provoking write.
Thank you for your entry and Best of luck in the contest. -
Excellent use of word bank--Very well done and best of luck with it in the contest!
-
You've used the word bank very well with this one! I like how it's talking about the past and it seems like you'd rather not return.. I like it a lot! You're totally going to beat out everyone else.
Adding your comment:
