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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"
Comments on "My last poem"
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A former member wrote:
the symbolism is breathtaking...
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On Wednesday, June 28, 2006, Dei
(663)
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.
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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..
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On Friday, June 23, 2006, addicted_angel
(21) wrote:
I really love your flow, beautiful-addicted
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