Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
phil-stewart-1Poems
Chance dealt me a cold dark kiss Planted it straight and long I tasted nothing, except the abyss Changing everything to wrong So few people, church cold as metal The things I had are gone Aching tears, wilting petals The things we should have done Take away this photograph It’s her hand I need to hold No words to meet this epitaph My heart once bought, now sold The picture of my life thing One that’s trodden down so small Faltering now, without a wing No soul in the world to call On the edge of this, on the edge of me Tilting, fraying, blowing, waving… Blue stare, rapid, World ascending In to the dizzy skies Sick of giving, drained of lending Morality never buys Burning like a used up bullet Melting mass in my slip stream I couldn’t push, I had to pull it Parachute this thin esteem Clutching the empty space Oxygen chilling veins Miles by the second, sheer Faster than it rains My days blew out like a second sun Peace came rushing with my last Silence cried from my empty lungs My future joined my past Crushed up, flat, and in the dust There’s not a second left No music, flowers or a fuss A stranger stood and wept Phil Stewart 2011: Fictional
0
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 9:31 AM UTC
Poem 2: The Edge Of This
Chance dealt me a cold dark kiss Planted it straight and long I tasted nothing, except the abyss Changing everything to wrong So few people, church cold as metal The things I had are gone Aching tears, wilting petals The things we should have done Take away this photograph It’s her hand I need to hold No words to meet this epitaph My heart once bought, now sold The picture of my life thing One that’s trodden down so small Faltering now, without a wing No soul in the world to call On the edge of this, on the edge of me Tilting, fraying, blowing, waving… Blue stare, rapid, World ascending In to the dizzy skies Sick of giving, drained of lending Morality never buys Burning like a used up bullet Melting mass in my slip stream I couldn’t push, I had to pull it Parachute this thin esteem Clutching the empty space Oxygen chilling veins Miles by the second, sheer Faster than it rains My days blew out like a second sun Peace came rushing with my last Silence cried from my empty lungs My future joined my past Crushed up, flat, and in the dust There’s not a second left No music, flowers or a fuss A stranger stood and wept Phil Stewart 2011: Fictional
phil-stewart-1
Written by
phil-stewart-1
English
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 9:31 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem