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Open Poetry #19
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Spared The Freedom
| Open Poetry #19 |
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Spared The Freedom |
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jwesley Member Rara Avis
since 2000-04-30
Posts 7563Spring, Texas 
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Spared The Freedom Deep in depths of blue I lose myself, no longer knowing up from down, clinging to the depths of my humanity, threatened by the dreams of sleep, not knowing one from the other, seeing Death stop his Cobalt Chariot, six fierce steeds snorting breath black as dread, his bony fingers reaching, reaching, to shove me in. Coming to grips with pseudo-reality, the reality of existence straining to survive, tortured inner-self running, running, seeking to hide loss of faith among the nearly sane, that faceless segment of bridge-roofed society, scraping concrete and souls against the grain and ignorance of the perceptually blinded better-than-thou's. Caught the blues of a child lying on it's lifeless mother's lap in the early morning mist of a day dawning beneath concrete spans and speeding metal, it's life an egnima of days spent hungry, it's future, a blissful unawareness, it's existence an afterthought, hidden from the eyes of those in the chariots above. Saw Death stop his Cobalt Chariot before the mother's lap; saw Death lift the child in bony fingers, hug it tight to his breast and hand it's soul gently to it's mother inside the ebony coach. Six snorting steeds with breath black as dread leapt silently into the air and sped away in a blaze of dark passing beyond the sky, and sight, leaving me standing there, alive, before the lifeless husk's of a mother and her child, spared the freedom, that could have been mine. w.james beard, jr ©march 2002 [This message has been edited by jwesley (03-22-2002 02:31 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2002 Wesley James Beard, Jr. - All Rights Reserved | |||
catalinamoon
since 2000-06-03
Posts 9543The Shores of Alone |
Jimmy, I have to say I don't quite know what is happening in this poem. But it sure is intense! Hope all is ok. Sandra |
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Sven
since 1999-11-23
Posts 14937East Lansing, MI USA |
the freedom that is death. . . or, the freedom from death. . . or, are they both the same??? and, if death is freedom. . . and conversely, freedom is death. . . well, then. . . where does that leave us??? very profound here Sir. . . well done in form and in content. . . ------------------------------------------------------- To the world, you may only be one person. But to one person, you may be the world. |
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strbbux Member Elite
since 2001-12-19
Posts 3859 |
Jimmy, this is very sad, powerful, and somewhat chilling. I felt for the mother and the baby and then in the end I felt for you, standing there observing all this. good write. floria Floria |
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Pilgrimage Member Elite
since 2001-12-04
Posts 3945Texas, USA |
This is a rough old world for some people, and freedom is sometimes found only in leaving it. But I hate to think of that. This is a good poem. Nan |
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Seymour Tabin Member Empyrean
since 1999-07-07
Posts 31720Tamarac Fla |
jwesley, A poem that makes its own mist. Enjoyed |
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Mistletoe Angel 
since 2000-12-17
Posts 32816Portland, Oregon |
 (tears fall down my cheeks) Oh James, this is soooooo heartbreaking, my heart goes to the mother and child and so many others who face this kind of trauma each day, and you and everyone who has to face and hear of this every day! (big hugggssssss) My thoughts are with you always, sweet friend, we all love you so much, God Bless You! You have such a beautiful heart, sweet James, thank you for sharing!  May love and light always shine upon you! Love, Noah Eaton |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
Wow, James, that's a sad write. Death as freedom, from a harsh life contrasted with life, a temporary gift of freedom from death. |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Jimmy This hurts, and yes, life sometimes does..you have written a durdge and it is beautiful in its force of voice, and very sad. I hope you are okay. Hugs! |
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jwesley Member Rara Avis
since 2000-04-30
Posts 7563Spring, Texas |
Hi guys...nothing wrong with me...this was just one of those "fishing for words" kind of thing. You know, where you write a line (the first one in this case) down, close your eyes and just kinda "let your fingers do the walking"...I figured you guys would think I went plumb loco or something...not true. Hee, hee.... jwesley |
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