Open Poetry #49 |
Barren Ridge |
Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666California |
Barren Ridge I traipse the hall, fingers trace wall Behind my booted tread. Where shadows morn the day unborn, Hold silence in its stead. Where voices, sere, still linger here, Echoes from a time past… Of laughter lost, and the true cost Of things to darkness cast. The heart still beats, if incomplete. A murmur mocks the pace. My march towards Death, I count each breath One closer to his face, Who passes by sharing not why The withholding of touch. Bids me move on, through life withdrawn, Already dead as such. I close my eyes, but no surprise, The visions never change. All life a dream, so it would seem, I pass through it, estranged. Time not well spent, there is no vent To bleed off this unease. Or stake to trust, wings wiped of dust, The truth of my disease. So' greet the door, in need of more... Some chance to be of use. The barren ridge my sacrilege, I honor the abuse. With calloused palm, and sweat the balm Alone that grants me sleep, Is the price paid, through dreams unmade, Never once thought too steep. Michael Anderson 4/08/2016 |
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© Copyright 2016 Michael Anderson - All Rights Reserved | |||
DaysofView Member
since 2014-04-01
Posts 433Just A Slice Of The Pie |
WoW! It so totally amazes me how you can write such engaging poetry and make it rhyme like a tragic opera! If I were more than I am, I'd see things differently instead of the same all the time. |
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JamesMichael Member Empyrean
since 1999-11-16
Posts 33336Kapolei, Hawaii, USA |
fine writing....james |
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Ari Squire Member Posts 488 In The Phallus Lane |
I fully concur with the above replies. Very well written poetry. More feelings and fewer words please |
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Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666California |
Thank you all for the kind replies. Means much to me. Michael |
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