you cut off my thumbs,
strung them on a necklace.
split my tongue with a razor,
and burned my shoes.
now i go howling,
in half darkened rooms.
drawn by the scent and the symphony,
of red pulsing blood!
you arched your back,
and the curtains trembled.
the vase full of water,
fell on your pillow.
i awoke from a dream,
my lips dry and aching.
moaned without thinking,
the willow bent, and sure!
who are we? the forgotten,
the silence lost in echo!
the tire worn thin,
the key left in the lock.
the bottle near empty,
on the edge of god's table...
the drum in the closet,
the nest blown by the wind!
An abstractive, graphical pen-gem, E.C.(your inits are the same as my all-time fav guitarist...Eric Clapton, with Hendrix, Lee & West a mere guitar string close behind) As can be expected...Solid Penning, indeed! ~FjR~
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I want to say we are all those things and less, but I will struggle to say we feel all those things to become more. Another thought riddled poem.