My mind is blank....
So I shall post a poem that I wrote a few weeks ago.
Shadow be to me a brother,
Night you are my only friend,
Dark heart from all others you've estranged me,
Sequestered by my sins.
Every bridge that I've been burning
Is the escape that I most need
Scornful moon smeared with mascara
Please don't sneer at me
Should I seep into this darkness?
Should I fill a shallow grave?
My running has all been vanity
The pursuer will never give up
For my crimes I've paid twice over
Please put away the noose!
Must you follow me forever?
Will my sorrow never cease?
I am tired and I am cold,
My strength fades into nothing now
My muscles creak, prematurely old
Bottle of dreams, broken down
Trampled by vicious feet
My heart has aged and wrinkled
But it exudes a joyous glow
I'm alive and kicking in the bitter snow
The strong do not inherit,
Their wars are fought in vain
Mercenary bloodshed buys only six feet for the slain
They die in anguish, alone with their guilt
We who ran without ceasing
Find our bottle has been rebuilt
And our tears that filled it
Transformed our dreams into a mirror
In which we can see the Face of Beauty
The Face of my wonderful King!
Shadow be to me a brother,
Night you are my only friend,
Dark heart from all others you've estranged me,
Sequestered by my sins.
Every bridge that I've been burning
Is the escape that I most need
Scornful moon smeared with mascara
Please don't sneer at me
Should I seep into this darkness?
Should I fill a shallow grave?
My running has all been vanity
The pursuer will never give up
For my crimes I've paid twice over
Please put away the noose!
Must you follow me forever?
Will my sorrow never cease?
I am tired and I am cold,
My strength fades into nothing now
My muscles creak, prematurely old
Bottle of dreams, broken down
Trampled by vicious feet
My heart has aged and wrinkled
But it exudes a joyous glow
I'm alive and kicking in the bitter snow
The strong do not inherit,
Their wars are fought in vain
Mercenary bloodshed buys only six feet for the slain
They die in anguish, alone with their guilt
We who ran without ceasing
Find our bottle has been rebuilt
And our tears that filled it
Transformed our dreams into a mirror
In which we can see the Face of Beauty
The Face of my wonderful King!
posted by Feanor at 4:44 PM
4 Comments:
Ditto Cada. Wow! Really deep, man. I had to read that one twice before I got it. You should publish all your poems, Evan. The world would be a gooder place. Yes, that is a word, I have invented it.
~JC
Sveetness. A few lines are particularly great (in my most humble and know-nothing opinion anyway), like "Bottle of dreams" and "Mercenary bloodshed buys only six feet for the slain." There's no extra words in there -- just the way a poem should be. Fabulous.
who is the feeder of dolphins?
ellentia
Me!
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