Open Poetry #49 |
The Road of Man |
Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666California |
The Road of Man The course given: Cryptology, the study of my life. The emptiness turned jealousy, the need for love to strife. A long look at a growing list of misguided mistakes, (Brought to the light by Fate's cruel twist), even a good man makes. If fast forgotten with sweet smile, mine seem more sinister. Trudging along this arduous mile, with eyes only on her. The halls are decked with the holly of holiday, my friend; Yet I dance the melancholy of a night without end. Tradition found, dreams of sadness carved deep into the mind. Whiling away days of madness, to thine own self still blind! Armageddon for a pittance, I'll drink to that, it's true. The tarnished price of resistance, a room without a view. But still I hear the gothic sound of endless misery, Visions foregone o'er love profound, calling me to the sea. The raindrops, as they strike the ground, bringing my eyes to close. I stand to face forever, bound within her blissful throes. A merry song, a divine wrong; a darkness all consuming. I know I will never belong to the course I'm resuming. And so, content, I watch a cold chill slither down the spine; Replacing the dreams I have sold with a bottle of wine. Beyond the grim refractory of everything I thought That love could be, if offered 'me, all now consumed with rot. A cumulative shadow expells all truth, all hope, all sense. My pathway through the seven hells merely the consequence. Cold comfort in isolation, what's left to bind the will? Where in disambiguation, a dead heart must fulfill The harvesting of grim sorrow where stars have seldom shone. Waking to face a tomorrow already etched in stone. Walking with seven-layered grief, beneath a vanquished sun. Staking my claim on disbelief, bequeathing soul to none. I stop to voice a wayward hymn, last vestige of this man. All ahead, as behind me, dim; I but sing while I can. Michael Anderson 12/25/2013 |
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© Copyright 2014 Michael Anderson - All Rights Reserved | |||
Marchmadness Member Rara Avis
since 2007-09-16
Posts 9271So. El Monte, California |
Whenever I read your poetry I can't help but think of Edgar Allan Poe, Michael. You do dark so well. Ida |
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
fine writing...James |
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
Keep singing, Michael, one note at a time, and you will one day realize the beautiful song you have created with your life, no matter anything, without exception, whatsoever, at all. Owl |
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Mysteria
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328British Columbia, Canada |
Oh, but you can walk those 7 halls of hell with wonder! I LOVED this one! |
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Kaoru
since 2003-06-07
Posts 3892where the wild flowers grow |
What flow you have! I love this, from beginning to end, and would pick out lines to say which I liked most, but it flows so well together that I'd copy and paste the entirety of it. Thank you for sharing it. |
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Lori Grosser Rhoden Member Patricius
since 2009-10-10
Posts 10202Fair to middlin' of nowhere |
You describe saddness and regret with such exacting detail as if to capture it within the confines of an ornately carved gold gilt frame. Each one a painful portrait in your picture album of then and now. Lori |
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icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows |
"...I but sing while I can. Of course, of course. Excellent. |
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