I am the night on a wall A cold dark Thing Inside a cupboard somewhere I am words below a grave Promises trodden in the mud A kiss that lingers Rotting the lips it blessed. Spiderwebs twist alongside my veins The memories- Buttery hair Lace on snow Sleep lonely. I am a piecing cavern shrieking For resurrection. We will never be united Never be us again The ebony dagger Hair is not mine The converses that lay forgotton On the bandstand aren’t yours And the music that bathed us Will never play again. But sometimes, just sometimes I feel your cocoa warmth And coffee smile Flooding through the barricade Your moon-drenched hair on my Buttery hair Stings the hot tight whiteness of my eyes And in that stabbing moment A single tear drop cascades From the glaring face of the Moon.
i like the first and thrid stanzas, i dont feel that the second stanza does anything for your poem, it could be cut out and the poem would be stronger i think...
Thank you for commenting, I couldn't part with the second stanza as it is the 1st one I wrote for this poem! Perhaps I should try and improve it instead... As you may have guessed the first stanza is narrated from the point of view of the dying/dead love itself, whilst the second and third are from the perception of me! I agree though that at the moment the 2nd stanza doesn't seem to fit in the poem. Any help with changing it would be appreciated..
Well, the title sucked me in here. Poetry is as personal as one's own skin. Its really written for the self. Other people may not understand it, but hey, thats the way of the artist. You're doing fine, and I think you have talent. Polish it. x
This made me feel very sad and lonely. So I think it is a success. that's the point with poetry, is it not? To arouse emotions in the reader. I too, however agree that the second verse seems a bit off. Maybe you could give it a little fine-tuning rather than chuck it as you seem attached to it. Whatever, I enjoyed reading this and look forward to more from you.
