A beguiling quality sweetens this genocide:
first butchered the population of my sense,
next the lamenting hordes of faith,
last the remains, the crying child.
The bridges we built, and the match in your hand:
your moods heightened by choice, gasoline
and mine eternally murdered, but bound
by you to an intimate dante’s inferno --
Could I abandon love alongside hope!
But I return, and flee, and then again return
to shark-infested ruins, torn asunder,
aching beyond compare,
my blistered feet ablaze.
A contest entry
- THE BURNED BRIDGES WE MUST RETURN TO PIF by Swan song.
1900 points, ended July 27, 2008, 7 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Massive depth to this poem and very well done
excellent take on the prompt and thank you for your entry
-
The depth of self-infliction is evident in this metaphorice gem!! The pain is highlighted by an exaggreated state simular to a Pablo Neruda and this just confirms your talent. *kisses and much love*
-
wow
this does speak of walking back to
the place where burnt bridges
are once again visited
Best of luck to you.
Riftkin
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