poetic forms / Poetry / Uncategorized / writing

The Price of Oblivion

As sorrow bounced in soft waves upon the moonlight

the sweet earth prepared

the young man brimming with melancholy

conquered by the sting of hollow

and sinking sadness

the wounds of despair burning raw…

The window of this poem

wishes to close

but instead, hangs open on rusty hinges

we must see it, we must

This young man is now in the road

any other time

it would be just a street

but now it’s hard pavement

he is walking, dizzy

he is falling fast

victim of endless crusades

turmoil, rage, utter, utter sadness

carving reckless into his skin

years have poured into others

and he is lost, lost

He is coming up swiftly

to the perimeter of this poem

and the door to dread

is swinging out wildly

You want to turn away now

you don’t really want to know

the dire depths seeping into caverns of pain

the anguish scalding his soul

Maybe, just maybe

he could stop for a moment

and focus

will himself onward, maybe…

But it brings us here

to the center of this poem

and you really wish the poet wouldn’t

take you here

wish that you might

avert your eyes, brace your heart

but you’re here now…

He decides his own fate

fingers adorned with agony’s rings

he grabs cold steel

and holds it there

then oblivion

somewhere the weaver at the loom

weaves the burial shroud…

The poem now lies torn

words spilling out upon imperfect concrete

seeking definition

shuffling those broken words

now adrift in ocean waves of salty tears.

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21 thoughts on “The Price of Oblivion

  1. I love how you kind of compared the progression of the poem to the traveller’s journey. Beautifully written and the picture you chose really reflects the mood of the poem. You are truly an artist!

  2. That’s a wow from me and not just any run of the mill wow, more of an upper upper case wow if such a thing existed. A story of one man’s battle with depression but layered with how long depression has existed, it’s horror and the poets own battles. Excellence has visited us. Well done, Lana an awesome effort. 🙂

  3. Mercy, this one is incredibly sad. I’ve known people suffering from depression, and most of them need professional help, the kind the rest of us aren’t equipped to provide. Still, sitting by and watching, yet doing nothing, makes one feel terribly inept. Beautifully written, ma’am!

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