First poem in a while
In the depths of despair am I
When love and affection go awry
Where in the essence of care
Did we take the errant faux pas
I stare at the wooden sepulcher
Of emotions petrified as a sculpture
Where the medusa of our souls carved
A deathly caricature of what once was love
It seems we never had a sense
Of what our actions consequence
Meant in grand passions funeral pyre
Even in the wildness of our desire
Rummaging through my attic of lost time
I find sentience of experiences combine
Elements of scraps and pieces of scuttled
Experiences to one common shuffle
On the other end of sadness alive
I see a heart reach out and forgive
For our destructive run away souls
Waltzed to a slowing calmness upheld
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Read 492 times
Written on 2010-01-22 at 19:18
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Attic of Lost Time
In the depths of despair am I
When love and affection go awry
Where in the essence of care
Did we take the errant faux pas
I stare at the wooden sepulcher
Of emotions petrified as a sculpture
Where the medusa of our souls carved
A deathly caricature of what once was love
It seems we never had a sense
Of what our actions consequence
Meant in grand passions funeral pyre
Even in the wildness of our desire
Rummaging through my attic of lost time
I find sentience of experiences combine
Elements of scraps and pieces of scuttled
Experiences to one common shuffle
On the other end of sadness alive
I see a heart reach out and forgive
For our destructive run away souls
Waltzed to a slowing calmness upheld
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Read 492 times
Written on 2010-01-22 at 19:18
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
