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Open Poetry #14
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Boatman, Come
| Open Poetry #14 |
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Boatman, Come |
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theLadypoet Member
since 2001-05-28
Posts 97Or USA |
Begin the dying here, in this absolute absence of any joyous thought. Bring to the altar the chalice, bitter tho it be. We will celebrate its libations as we pray to die cleanly and away from this fractious earth. We are boiled in the cannibal’s black pot. We are fraught with dreams that remain unborn, with the tantalizing oudor of wicked life. No maidens in this valley sing of spring. Hope is a murdering marauder whose name we cannot call. Bitter gaul shall fill our cups and touch our lips in a kiss that sucks the soul dry to its arid core. O, Charon sup at our table, please. Sleep on the pristine coolness of our linen. O, boatman, come, for you know the way to the sweetness of oblivion. "A woman is like a tea bag, you never know how strong she is until she gets in hot water..." Eleanor Roosevelt |
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| © Copyright 2001 Sherry Asbury - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
Someone needs Morpheus to visit....sounds like it's been a long, long day...and an good read.... |
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VAS Member Rara Avis
since 2000-11-16
Posts 7450Oregon |
very powerfully said, I hope if you're feeling this way, it doesn't last very long and doesn't come around too terribly often may hope be rekindled soon and frequently |
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brian madden Member Elite
since 2000-05-06
Posts 4374ireland |
theLadypoet, I don't know whether you will take this as a compliment or not, but the whole poem reminds me of Nick Cave's songs. It has that stark imagery, beautiful and haunting undertones and takes the reader on a journey through the undergrowth to see both the light and the dark. Loved this poem. "Like Sand underneath the snow, I make you mine." Kristin Hersh |
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