The silence was deafening;
Nothing but hte whispers of the night's wind.
Her eyes reflected the silver of the moon,
Whom was gimacing down upon her.
Her body lyed down in the crimson she called her own;
A pool of blood not deserved to be spilt.
Her poor soul looks not once at her cold body,
But at the man who's own hand pulled the trigger.
He smiles and takes a step away,
But not until the tears came down his face to stop him.
Looking back at the life he has taken,
He falls to now stained ground.
Oh how sad! True love always forgives. Tue love always seeks happiness in her / his beloved. This is true love! except that it just ended sad. Rochelle i am glad i picked your poem.
Sad poem, all about a murder but how beautifully sketched! I like it. And Here is at below, my Bengali translation of this poem.
Guilt for an innocent life taken away eats up heart of the culprit to grave.
The narrative and the scene seems to be out of a horror movie. murder of a young woman followed by a streak of repentance makes it quite poignant and sad. No motive or any other clue. He smiles and takes a step away, But not until the tears came down his face to stop him. Looking back at the life he has taken,
A painful experience of a life betrayed and a trust broken has been portrayed with all its harsh impact on the protagonist's life. Thanks.
And yes, pl make sure to correct the typos and grammer. Necessary.
Hi Leah, A very heartrending poem. Yes, deafening too. The choice of words and their sequence, truly makes the mood of the poem- extreme anguish. And a vociferous protest against the drastic action of taking the life of a fellow being. No, she is his loved one- the last few lines point to this fact. Brevity at its best. Just twelve lines; but confining twelve oceans of emotions in them. This is how poetry has to be. Well Deserved to be chosen as the poem of the day. Congrats again...
Nice poem. Make it even better by fixing a few small typos and grammar errors: The silence was deafening; Nothing but the whispers of the night's wind. Her eyes reflected the silver of the moon, Who was grimacing down upon her. Her body lay down in the crimson she called her own; A pool of blood not deserved to be spilt. Her poor soul looks not once at her cold body, But at the man whose own hand pulled the trigger. He smiles and takes a step away, But not until the tears come down his face to stop him. Looking back at the life he has taken, He falls to now-stained ground. Well done! Congratulations on having it selected as poem of the day!
Crime and remorse are juxtaposed in this simple poem!