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Pledging in the Wait
Scraped my knees on the dreams of being you
—The sad exalted exhale exhumed
I have the heart to harvest this moment
Because it’s hardened
Forgone
Forgotten
Forlorn
For her
Always for her
In the morning we’re born again
But the evening can be hell
And by night
It all means nothing,
Smashed plates and mouths full of hate
We curse our meaning
And shape ourselves to fit the frame
While the picture bleeds
We focus on what remains,
The black and the blue
until the reds get their turn
-We’re pledged
And it’s none of their concern
I really . . . REALLY . . .
I really . . . REALLY . . . like this poem. That first line is quite a hook, it yanks the reader into the poem which then accelerates immediately into its subject matter with no delay, and no chance to look back or back out. Like the first notes of a sonata's major theme, after the intro, lines five throug nine set both the theme and the pace, and then the poem swiftly and effeciently works its effect upon the reader.
Starward
Thanks!
I'm really glad you enjoyed it and took some time to describe what you thought of it.
"Where do you go when nowhere feels like home?"-FBMF