I’d die a better,
poetic death
If I were afraid of it.
Yet, bounded by turbulent seas,
caging each deliberate movement,
mocks death easy.
Living does little to quell these quakes
as they morph from bright undulating morning
hums into night beats absent rhythms,
making it harder to discern between
irrational hallucinations from the
sound fear of breathing.
My daily trembles,
punctuated by lucidity,
gnaw at this compulsion to nurture.
Foiled and paralyzing.
I carry, with silent grace,
an armor of deception,
blindly free from exasperation,
and I wrap my self in Athena’s tunic.
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i also came across this poem "Diagnosis" by terence winch that i found cute and amusing. i thought you guys might enjoy it as well: DIAGNOSIS
1 comment:
The language of this poem shakes, shudders, and shimmers with fear. Great job!
I liked the Terence Winch poem -- how clever! Thanks for posting it!
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