You taught me
lots of things –
how to look inside
pores, past dead skin
and yarns of hair,
and find
in every one a sacrifice
ready to be made.
Then how to sweat
it out and make it visible.
To carry the thing out,
I mean,
to make it a living.
You sold your superficialities
on rotten quays riddled
with smugglers’ caves
and tongue-tying riches
that sickened you
and had to be cured
with more sacrifices.
I was never so good.
I found it easier to shout
buy me buy me
in market stalls
and county fairs,
and advertise the special
cheaper type of martyrdom
I had to offer.
I didn’t have your expertise.
It meant that getting out of it
was easy for you –
whereas when I came
to the same point
and wanted to bury my head
in water and not resurface,
I was a thousand miles
from the sea.
A contest entry
- crimson remorse by PersephoneInWinter.
300 points, ended August 19, 2008, 17 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - obituary by adsaige.
2000 points, ended January 5, 42 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Judged
The last stanza made up the entire piece to me because I felt that it was the strongest of the piece. I did see loosely where the 'death' were drawn into inspiration. I thank you for entering. Good luck.
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I LOVE THE END!!! bravooo
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this finishes out with excellent flourish .. the last stanza is amazing and i read the poem three times and really like it ...
thank you for this fine poem in the contest -
This is a great write...YOu really chew upon it...and
can hear the poets voice....thru the lines and simile's
we get a real feel for where the poet is leading us...
will make sure I read more of your writes!
well done! well done!
ears/Seattle
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