Open Poetry #36 |
Worn Fingertips |
Professor Gloom Member Elite
since 2000-07-23
Posts 3082of Depression |
They are not callus but worn to softness Lightly touching the denizens of darkness, A caress of a knowing touch Where knowledge doesn’t mean much And the pools that gather on the ground, Might be blood or just polluted water found Tainted with a relieved wino or crack head Mattering not if alive or long dead. Worn fingertips feel for a pulse of living Yet from the coldness none is giving With care unknown the body is taken Red lights not needed still flash the streets And not even a cloudy sky pauses to weep For there was no hurry for them to save This is headed for a unmarked grave John Doe one hundred and three Now forever he’ll be. Gloom |
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© Copyright 2005 Aszard Drazlom - All Rights Reserved | |||
Sharksbean Member
since 2005-09-25
Posts 368jax |
this chilled me to the bone very good write my friend -may the force be with you in poetry |
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Pilgrimage Member Elite
since 2001-12-04
Posts 3945Texas, USA |
And the people who cared gave up a long time ago. Well done. Nan (Pilgrim variety) |
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iliana Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434USA |
Dark, dark, dark....and sad. The Gloom is back! ....jo |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
A lonely place your sight of the streets at night You write mood so very well!! |
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Angelheart Senior Member
since 2005-09-08
Posts 754Jacksonville,FL USA |
and yes it is very lovely, thanks for sharing. Poetry can get you very far |
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