Category: Writers Block
Bones broken by stones cast,
treacherous chasm stretching vast,
the killer's blade upon blood-slick earth.
wheat hewn beneath the scythe,
tortured souls who won't survive,
embracing the warmth of demons mirth.
Angel wings aglow in flight,
beauty on a barren night,
unbridled innocence never to die.
In endless plights the ember glowing,
in vexing doubt the mind all-knowing,
stone'd pillar of strength in strife.
Mutinous soldiers marching forth,
eyes that spy the bullet's course,
cleaved where they stand, one by one.
Calloused hands reflecting those who've toiled,
cauldron in which flesh was boiled,
blackened feet too charred to run.
Silken skin of angel face,
smile wrought with beaming grace,
find bliss in thine open arms.
Tender beauty in angel eyes,
sweet voice of being from bluest skies,
beguiled by your earthly charms.
Enticing hand,
enthralled I stand,
and draw you near.
beauteous road,
to welcome abode,
I'll keep you dear.
The steel cold,
torn flesh I hold,
but shed not a tear.
structures once raised,
now set ablaze,
by fuel you brought here.
The coin with its two sides divided,
points joined by a vital line,
each future a range undecided,
leading lost souls to beacons divine.
As I stand and gaze at these faces,
the tears just as wet through the time,
there is but one question to ponder:
Will I ever discern these two sides?
Lengthy tome scribed in flowing blood,
passages professing love,
yet it's all wrong again.
Promises and sacred rights,
drowned in lies of many nights,
yet it doesn't end.
Deceit gliding ever so near,
it's wing'd touch a glove of fear,
yet there stands a single rose.
The blowing of a gentle breeze,
bringing strains of crazed disease,
yet the scent of flowers fills the nose.
The corpse atop a funeral pyre,
transformed to ash in raging fire,
yet: "he's in a better place."
Vivid painting in darkest shade,
of chaos lords and brutal raids,
yet framed in frills and lace.
Specters roaming hallowed halls,
henchmen toppling castle walls,
yet it's hymns of praise they sing.
Keen-edged sword in fearsome ark,
questing steel finds it's mark,
Yet: It's news of hope and life the executioner brings.
Maiden's kiss,
beckoning bliss,
the fangs unveiled.
Ruins charred,
flesh marred,
leaving a trail.
Crying eyes,
thoughtful surmise,
I step away.
Hate ignited,
a glance at the smited,
no words to say.
The coin with its two sides divided,
points joined by a vital line,
each future a range undecided,
leading lost souls to beacons divine.
As I stand and gaze at these faces,
the tears just as wet through the time,
there is but one question to ponder:
Will I ever discern these two sides?
These two sides.
Two sides.
Jim
very interesting. I must say, I don't understand what the words mean, but then again, I don't like analyzing poetry, it kills it. But that was excellent as always jim, I like your writings. Great job.
Is it betrayal? I like the metaphorical use of fire and battle its gruesome powerful and very well written.More!