My last poem

By edenscancer

They speak

and they move like dead in the
deaf
depths

and they shift like sonnet soliloquy
sung by
a choir of me

sometimes my heart can't understand
what it's feeling

what the words say

Sometimes my heart can't understand
what It's writing

with a sad whimper
a sick bellow of soundless breath
it echoes

my arts death

cliche

sick


no meaning

just like me

It moves

but does not breathe

It says goodbye

and slowly leaves



my last poem

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
© 2006 edenscancer
Published on Friday, June 23, 2006.     Filed under: "Poetry"
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Comments on "My last poem"

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  • A former member wrote: the symbolism is breathtaking...

  • Dei On Wednesday, June 28, 2006, Dei (665)By person wrote:

    OH my oh my. . .This was lovely darling. I do hope you put this one to music as well. Poems were designed to be spoken, to be heard not just read. You capture that so well.

  • A former member wrote: the last before the last before the last right? poems will form in your mind and take shape randomly, willfully, just as you describe them to be, alive, noisy, and they won't go away..

  • addicted_angel On Friday, June 23, 2006, addicted_angel (21)By person wrote:

    I really love your flow, beautiful-addicted

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