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Open Poetry #30
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Ben
Junior Member
since 2004-01-17
Posts 21


0 posted 2004-01-18 09:45 PM



Under the light the calling sings
Blindly enchanting the scorching rings
In an impulsive flutter of burning wings

The flickering of moths nurturing thought
Was it air or ashes they sort
Crushed within the hand of our father’s fort

Tim unearths residence on lonely concrete
Never perceiving the shade of his fathers eyes
He crumbles forlornly from broken feet
Famished and shaken he glares into social deceit
While consuming emaciated ****  from the street

Susan lies dejected in bitter mud
Beauty concealed in scars of the cigarette bud
Sensing the abhorrence of her peers
Her trembling hands clutch the noxious shears
As she gasps for air under crimson tears

Chris lies lost in the shadows of his father
Stone stares to the fall of his mother
Tripping in a plunge to a silent bell
His bloodshot eyes now reflect upon a cell
For he be the son of freedoms hell

Amy staggers alone down a path of obscurity
Evading her last slice of dignity
Trapped within the walls of daddy’s peck
His tainted gift a necklace of rope
That now resides tightly around her fragile neck

In the gathering of memory lies the thought
Was it air or ashes they sort
Crushed within the hand of our fathers fort


© Copyright 2004 Ben Zeeman - All Rights Reserved
Juju
Member Elite
since 2003-12-29
Posts 3429
In your dreams
1 posted 2004-01-18 09:59 PM


That was so beatiful. I could find no wrong it was beautiful. I loved the gentle symbolism and the story. I love this poem.
-Juju-

ThisDiamond
Member Rara Avis
since 2002-02-22
Posts 9353
Michigan, USA
2 posted 2004-01-18 10:16 PM


You move me poet with the depth of this write...it is not the topic that is beautiful...it is the painting of pain that is mesmerizing. You captured something here few could.  Well done. TD
iliana
Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434
USA
3 posted 2004-01-18 10:29 PM


Welcome to Passions, Ben.  This was an enthralling, intelligent write.  Thanks for sharing.  
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