Bleary eyes search
the darkened corners
Of the strange room.
Where am I?
Who brought me here?
My mind spins
wildly in rhythm with
the quaking of my soul.
Eye's Burning
with unshed tears.
I strangle on my sorrow
as I try to recall
something more
than the taste
of left over wine.
Patricia Sawyer
A contest entry
- leftover wine by Luna Tique Fringe.
850 points, ended July 29, 2008, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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A bit too melancholy in delivery for my taste, but I do like the same line quoted below. Thanks for entering
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Very well done
Something many can relate to and that's always a plus for the reader. I loved the line "my mind spins wildly in rhythm with quaking of my soul" very nice. Thank you, Boog
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