Those desolate veiny places
show a lack of communication
Temples of an old man
and muscular forearms
Saran Wrapped leftovers
In memory of forest lion
of some sort looking up
A shell of what it was
Another gun goes off
Listen
This did you wrong Sestos
A wave of desolation
The lyre held firmly from the right
played backward towards the left
A contest entry
- September by Saffron.
800 points, ended September 15, 2008, 18 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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This is poignant, and indeed a reminder that all things change or come to an end. Thank you for considering this contest, and for writing this.
Saffron
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I had to go and see what Sestos was. Ruins of an ancient city. Memories - of another time. A reminder that everything ends - that everything has a time and a season. I always enjoy your poems - they are never what they first appear to be.
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Thanks for looking that up, I had to also....
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interesting and intense piece. very poignant. harsh and soft to some degree. love your talent.
blessigns *sompts
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