My lungs ache, weariness sets in.
Engulfed in your frozen tips of silver.
Mangled with such disconcern.
I gather my self underneath the pale moonlight.
b.r.o.k.e.n
Tainted by your touch.
Lost in your misery.
I let go.
My heart is too heavy in my chest.
Author notes
VanGoghNights
A contest entry
- personal poetry. ❤ by aanika.
1147 points, ended September 13, 2008, 40 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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There is something enchanting and romantic about the dark spaces in the heart, the shadows where a fire might simmer in embers. But, more often than not the people who cherish their misery are only looking for acolytes to praise them for being so able to suffer and only want others who don't quite suffer as much or as beautifully.
Worse are those who live to hide their feelings and belittle those who would express theirs. For theirs is a cruel and evil cowardice that allows them to put themselves up while putting others down.
I hear in your last lines the curse of someone who swears they care too much and should hide behind disdain more often than not. Don't be foolish, just picky. For to hide from your heart is to practice dieing before death is a true choice. Being picky is a study in patience while you find out if the man measures up to his own standards and meets yours with respect. Then in the concourse of discovery you can decide whether he should be allowed to be a friend with potential.
I hear too much that you are a believer in magic and fall too quickly because the door opened at the right time and why wait since pleasure is short and hell to constant.
Still, I enjoy how you are partnering your feelings with your words.
Love,
Tom B.
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I just love a good work on love unrequited, to be poisoned through the concern for others and have it dashed against the shores of the forsaken.
excellent write
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too short.
nice images and stuff,
but there is too much punctuation
and it wasn't long enough to actually convey a message.
thanks for entering
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I'm gonna beat around the bush. This poem, it touched my soul. It's very rare that a poem can do that, an for that I salute an praise you. It's actually brough a tear to my eye. An the title, certainly catches the attention of the reader, the title pretty much shouts out: "Yo, read me!!". Well done. Good work, Hell, better than good work, it's brilliant!! An keep up with the writing
Ragnarok
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screen name in author's notes please
I'll comment for real later. -
The imagery works especially well in this and you really communicate the pain of the poetic voice well through your choice of words. One question, does making every line a single statement aid the flow? Perhaps you might want to play about with the punctuation a little? Interesting read, good luck in your contest, thanks for sharing.
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