He Once Ceased To See The Colors Poem by Rod M.Peters

He Once Ceased To See The Colors

Rating: 5.0

He once ceased to see the colors
And the lights
And the glimmering of the sea
And the sparkle in the eye.
Rainbows cracked and fell down
And the din of the crashing shards
Left him deaf overnight.
He learned to paint shadows
In the dirty canvas
Of a strained mind,
Immersed in a pool of silence.
Prolific shades of despondency
Discoloring all dawns.
And the only voice that broke in
Through the brittle hull
Whispered, confiding in him:
‘Strip all the layers off,
Dig into the virgin soil,
Pull at the cord fastening
All the faint echoes
Of the Sacred Poem.'

Life did strip him to a heap
Of bleached bones
Gathered in a burlap sack
By a sulky interloper,
Dragged along unholy ground,
Bartered for moonshine.
Then and only then,
Emptying the cup
Of overflowing self-pride,
He began to hear echoes alright,
Wild dogs encroaching on
Suburban sprawls
That hounded him through
Viscous alleyways,
Assailed and gripped him
With forceful intent
And tossed him to the ground
There to lie helpless,
All cries smothered under
A pall of regretfulness,
Till he began to hear
The faint sound of distant music
And a chorus of soft voices.
All he can do now
Is strive to make out the words.

Wednesday, March 15, 2017
Topic(s) of this poem: creativity,poetic expression,transformation
Jean Harold 15 March 2017

I really love this!

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Rod Mendieta 16 March 2017

Glad you enjoyed it and thanks!

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Bri Edwards 28 December 2021

...I'd like to read another one. bri ;)

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Bri Edwards 28 December 2021

Dang! ! ! ! I may not read again (or may) , I mean again, after nearly 4 years, as i see I 'loved' it before, and....

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Tom Squires 26 November 2018

beautiful, i can see it for myself

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Rod Mendieta 27 November 2018

Ah well, that's what makes the whole effort worth it. You're most welcomed!

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bri edwards 12 February 2018

still a Wow. bri :)

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Rod Mendieta 13 February 2018

Swell! And now it's even a Wow, with capital w, or was that a typo?

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Kyvin Nash 28 August 2017

Good writ, creative writing... It paints a great picture of perseverance+10

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Rod Mendieta 28 August 2017

Thanks Kyvin. Yes, perseverance, and also an attempt to suggest that true poetic creation can only spring from a state of 'moral bankrupcy'. Life may seem to treat you badly when it's perhaps only giving you grist for your mill.

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Rod M.Peters

Rod M.Peters

San José, Costa Rica
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