Treasure Island

Stan Petrovich

(10/27/1950 / Fort Riley, KS)

A Brief History of Pain


One cell cringing
in commotion;
Sauropods succumbing
to gravity,
protecting doomed offspring;
The King of all Writers,
fishing in guts for plays,
dying unknown;
Then you, hobnobbing,
howling in torture
for things I cannot
or will not
do.

My shell is cracked;
I am here alone in a world
of grief. But I ply,
for though the pain is overwhelming,
in the end it is brief.
Breaking a plastic pen in two
is too difficult
to separate from the field of pain.
And too neat.

Submitted: Friday, October 14, 2011
Edited: Saturday, October 15, 2011
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (A Brief History of Pain by Stan Petrovich )

Enter the verification code :

  • Tony Karas (12/11/2012 7:21:00 AM)

    dark meanderings. I've been there, often. I sense you might just need a (((hug))) so here's one for you. (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  9. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream
    Edgar Allan Poe

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Birth is a bubble burst with death., Rm.Shanmugam Chettiar.
  2. Not love alone, hasmukh amathalal
  3. The friends, gajanan mishra
  4. Elegy: In Coherent Light, Anne Stevenson
  5. Elegy, Anne Stevenson
  6. I feel her, hasmukh amathalal
  7. Call a day, hasmukh amathalal
  8. Feeling Free Within, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
  9. ELAINE'S CONFUSION, Terry Collett
  10. *X*- To Love, Leslie Guylee Cron

Poem of the Day

poet Alfred Lord Tennyson

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]