Open Poetry #45 |
Liberty denied |
TheAnonDavid Member
since 2008-08-28
Posts 237UK |
I sit here in the silence of the room, A room that is my prison and my grave, As empty as an unproductive womb, A room that is my master, I the slave. There is no clock to mark the passing time Nor handle on the door so I can leave. They say I must reflect upon my crime, That when I die there'll be no one to grieve. I close my eyes and float beyond the walls Beyond the bars that keep me locked inside; Where half forgotten memory softly calls, Where freedom haunts me, mocks what I'm denied. My cries of innocence remain ignored And silence greets my murmurs of dismay; My liberty will never be restored For justice has been done, or so they say. Yet still I dream of walking in the rain And watching blossom grow upon a tree For deep inside I know, but can't explain - One day I'll walk erect and proud - and free. |
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© Copyright 2009 David M M (UK) - All Rights Reserved | |||
Earth Angel Member Empyrean
since 2002-08-27
Posts 40215Realms of Light |
It is difficult for me to ascertain as to whether you are speaking literally or metaphorically ~ but either way, your poem was stark, dark, hopeless, hapless, brooding and bleak ~ and VERY well-written! May you be given the key to set you free. EA |
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WTBAKELAR
since 2008-09-09
Posts 1089Utah, USA |
Freedom is a state of mind, and I for one, mind that I stay free. Incarceration is the one thing I could not live with, which is probably why I try to walk the line. Nice write, Tracey. |
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Marchmadness Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271So. El Monte, California |
I agree with Linda, here. Whatever the circumstance, this poem is very well written and deeply moving. Ida |
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