The final version


The woods

It is to the silent woods I want to go
when I struggle through sleepless night,
floating through all anguish that flow
like dark, hellish music I cannot fight.

The throbbing rush of bats that clone
in gloomy rooms of empty citadels
denies death its weathered bone.
The end is ringing with burning bells.

Flushed by the river of no return
I watch my children go into the night
with no regrets or concerns to burn
on the old altar of wrong or right.

It is to the silent woods I want to go
when I struggle through sleepless night,
floating through all anguish that flow
like dark, hellish music I cannot fight.




Poetry by Bob
Read 671 times
Written on 2007-03-23 at 20:44

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angelwings
In the silent woods there in solitude calls thee,listen to the
inspiring wisdom it speaks...
2007-03-24


Rik The PoetBay support member heart!
Very polished piece of work full of pathos. The repeating of the last verse adding to the resignment of thought. Really like the picture too!
2007-03-24