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~pulse~

Drawn in and I don't know why
a firey gaze offers something more,
but will I find less?
What keeps me by the dimming fire
after its warmth has long passed?
Its dieing embers hold
as I watch them pulse within...
An ever-darkening tomb conceals
any pulse remainsing. (still working on this poem)

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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Vanessa Brown 06 November 2005

Wow, i like it! ! ! its depressing yet somewhat beautiful...read some of Byrons poetry, if you read Childe Harolde's Pilgrimage it goes on about there being beauty in melancholia, and i think you really capture the essence of that here! ! well done :)

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