By these staggered eyes between gasps lives the black,
inverted pools of a stagnant swamp, I see the joined;
where life is nothing short of a need to possess.
Death plays the charlatan's role dressed by the flesh
of the ridiculed dead things that take my blood
home, by the exit of the stage that none dare grasp.
I hold the dreams at bay, fragmented; dry of a subtle tear
tied to the visage of a fading sight where the moon would gather;
and too I would summon, a ghostly dance, and behold a glory not my own.
Stone kisses lay in place of falling tides and a joy
that would fall the rains and drink the fire, now lives only red
as the hearth runeth over by ash, an invocation.
Now shadows wither, tortured frames list 'pon walls
carved of bone and sinew they bare to me sweet times;
candles wane, with drawn breath I meet the night and her secrets.
.
A contest entry
- Wow Me by BehindTheShadow.
2550 points, ended October 5, 2008, 41 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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dig it hoss, the first two stanzas I found especially moving. "the ridiculed dead things that take my blood..." - DAMN !!!
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Nice piece, I enjoyed it. Thanks
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Welcome To all poetry
Hi Truthisee,
This is a fantastic poem, you have so many great lines
I love it
Please keep writing, reading and commenting
Barbara
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