He waited to be cloaked in ebony,
consumed by the darkness,
his sun rituals impoverished,
soon unable to replicate forms from light.
Sunset danced along each solemn alley
spending her sun drops on sidewalks
lighting smiles as she was able.
But along deep edges of daily bustling
where stench arose from daylight litter,
she held her breath, allowing her friend
to hide the garbage thrown from life.
His hands reached out to enclose
the space light once gave this cold retreat.
He smothered the colors,
crept into corners,
nibbled at their edges until
they turned gray and indistinguishable.
The day racing away from the dark,
he followed the people as they walked,
growing weaker and smaller,
as the night sky grew faint cerulean stars,
his last breath, a sighing into sleep.
A contest entry
- A Wordplay Poetry Contest by -BlackKnight-.
600 points, ended June 9, 2008, 38 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Shadows? Or maybe worn.
This has some wonderful parts and so parts that fell rather flat... With some modifications this write could truly wow some people.
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"Shadows"?
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Yes, shadows!
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