Blissfully lost in eternal rest, he lies on the grass.
His body bearing the many signs of a life depraved of happiness,
he lies at peace.
Looking back, he only sees that which brought him his demise.
Yet he does not feel anger, nor does he cherish the thought of retaliation.
Slowly, he has come to accept that which has passed,
and will pass time and time again.
The soft glow of stars piercing the sky gently illuminate the stains of blood on the ground beneath his body,
covering it in a silken layer of gloom.
The headaches grows larger while he is slowly burning out,
and as his mind slowly shuts down, he can only think of her.
He does not understand how this misdefined love has taken hold of him,
yet he knows it is his power.
The numbing cold is slowly spreading throughout his body. He has forsaken his
will for life, for he is robbed of the only thing that kept him standing.
In the distance, he can still hear her voice. He knows it's his mind playing
tricks on him, but he chooses to live the illusion.
Before drawing his final breath, he quietly utters her name, and reminisces of
joyful times now long lost. And in the last moment of awareness,
he is comforted by the thought of never feeling emotions again.
The only remembrance left of him is an old dusty newspaper clipping,
entitled "Young man bludgeoned to death by enraged girlfriend".
His body bearing the many signs of a life depraved of happiness,
he lies at peace.
Looking back, he only sees that which brought him his demise.
Yet he does not feel anger, nor does he cherish the thought of retaliation.
Slowly, he has come to accept that which has passed,
and will pass time and time again.
The soft glow of stars piercing the sky gently illuminate the stains of blood on the ground beneath his body,
covering it in a silken layer of gloom.
The headaches grows larger while he is slowly burning out,
and as his mind slowly shuts down, he can only think of her.
He does not understand how this misdefined love has taken hold of him,
yet he knows it is his power.
The numbing cold is slowly spreading throughout his body. He has forsaken his
will for life, for he is robbed of the only thing that kept him standing.
In the distance, he can still hear her voice. He knows it's his mind playing
tricks on him, but he chooses to live the illusion.
Before drawing his final breath, he quietly utters her name, and reminisces of
joyful times now long lost. And in the last moment of awareness,
he is comforted by the thought of never feeling emotions again.
The only remembrance left of him is an old dusty newspaper clipping,
entitled "Young man bludgeoned to death by enraged girlfriend".
Author notes
The first poem to have been written since my writer's block. For the first time, this poem was written through emotional construct, instead of a logical buildup.
A contest entry
- Title/Quote Prompt by Harlequin Dance.
600 points, ended October 25, 2008, 17 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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Wow. This poem is so vivid and imaginational (don't know if that's a real word). I love the descriptions, and the tone of the piece. It's despondent and touching. Good job
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I'm glad you like it

Dont know if imaginational is a word, but i know what you mean
Tnx for commenting
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Cool write
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Cool write
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wrm hebt gij zon makkelijke opdracht

ik weet echt ni wak me die van mij moet aanvange
anyway, veel succes ermee
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Na urenlange naakte meditatie in het stadspark van Kortrijk heb ik toch uiteindelijk iets op papier kunnen zetten
. Thad beter gekund, maja, next time.
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naakte meditatie?

ik krijg enorm foute beelden op mijn netvlies
over de poem, ik vind hem best nog wel geslaagd
(en ligt het aan mij of gaan er veel mense dood in onze laatste poems?
)
ge hebt een mooi beeld geschetst, en ik vinnet in elk geval wel realistisch
onze poems zijn in deze contest wel aan elkaar gewaagd vind ik, nu nog hope da die mens der ook zo over denkt
good luck
with the poem and with the subject
xx -
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Ma nee, pas vanaf 5289 mensen per poem zouden da veel sterfgevallen zijn

alsek de andere poems zo is bekijk denk ik da et ni vel gaat uitmake ofk iets heb geschreve of ni
don't take things too literally
gaat zowel over die naakte meditatie als me die subject
zo hard zit et mij ni dwars ze 
But tnx for caring
xFlater -
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dus als mijn volgende poem toevallig 5290 sterfgevalle zou bevatte is da ernstig?

ik neem nogal graag dinge letterlijk, dan moet ik ni zo hard nadenke
yw
xx -
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ik deel die levensstijl
zie et maar als een uitdaging dan e
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haha, ik hou wel van uitdaginge

xx
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Title prompt: Hammered
Take it where you will.
1 - 12 of 12




