Wednesday, June 13, 2012

This day that year…


This day that year…
They brought the beautiful man dead
Dead as dead can be
He didn’t flinch as they shaved his beard
Didn’t wipe the torrential tears
That poured
Still pour
Each time the foot dashes a stone
For no hands remove the stone
Or
Heal the bleeding heart
That cries, bellows, cringes
At the beautiful man shaped
Hollowness deep within


2 comments:

Anonymous said...

In this poem, I like that you have finally experimented with the form of the poem. And hang in there. *hugs*

About your other poems: I have noticed that all your poems are based on big passionate emotions (just like you) with lots of drama/melodrama. What I would really like to see you explore in your poetry is silence and solitude. That quiet moment that is equally significant even though it does not make much noise.

~M

Anonymous said...

Can feel the sorrow but you have a long way to go sweetheart. :)

-NK

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