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May 30, 2011
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THE FOLLOWING
rain rivers
black and curving
held by papers
old
fragments of
yesterday is swimming
against the naked curb
bright green grass
will take the tales
drink it in
like a thin sin
there are carnations
behind the glass
and sharp thorn
beauty
waiting
the water will fill
the vases
and fine print
distortions will
etch the clause
chimes are ringing
in the breeze
like phantom
spirits that dwell
making light their
songs to sell
my footprints are
rain prints
and the sky
is a scar of ragged
beauty
About This Poem
Style/Type: Free verse
Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft
Comments
Lenny of Cohen
14 years 1 month ago
Hellishly wicked
and wonderful piece of writing! I was hooked from the first line.......
Awesome dude!
Namaste,
Lenny
Esker
14 years 1 month ago
sometimes a write is pain
this one came from somewhere
the gift of writing the poet muse
hung over feeling scared
fear ful and angry too
revolving soul with all its great fragments
like a shattered mirror
the struck image of soul
thanks for the comments Lenny
wesley snow
14 years 1 month ago
Some really good lines
This is not my style of poetry, but I enjoyed the read nonetheless because hidden within the poem are a number of lines that ate the lining from my gut.
"my footprints are rainprints" "drink it in like a thin sin"
If you could fill a poem with bullets like that I'd buy the book.
wesley
Esker
14 years 1 month ago
Book of Bullets
some poems draw comments
that are unique and filled
with a similar kind of terrible beauty
and this was one of them
this poem was from the well of
creativity that frightens me
i moved through it slow
like walking in a lightening storm
with no place to find cover
not all writes are like this
its when this Gift I received
and honed sometimes has
a power I greatly appreciate
and respect these comments
Thank you Wesley
Esker
13 years 6 months ago
charts
were not taken
the reckoning of the dead
its easier to remember
nicknames for places
replace faces
with soft focus recall
today is today
and that curve I lived through
that i made it around
will change tommorrow
like the ghosts that come
to visit on windless nights
to pay respect to the living