Naked Poem

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I wrote a poem with beautiful words,
sounding like a song only I could hear,
knowing there was no point
but to listen.

But the music faded
and the words ate my soul.
I prayed it was only for a day.
A wretched mood.
A slice of time swept over like
shadows grooming mountains,
licking ravines,
moving mavericks of darkness
to tuck away the curled bones —
a memorial of snuffed out
wild things,
scavengers and savages,
fleshless chips crunching under
a booted sole.

But the words.
The terrible beasts.
Shaking leaves off their limbs
to claw at the sky in bitterness,
slashing their nails, leaving white scars,
waiting for the song to be conducted,
the notes to fill the sheets,
the rise and roar of spring,
the buried beauty to return
with vengeance and
solace.

I wrote a poem with beautiful words,
sounding like a song only I could hear,
knowing there was no point
but to listen.

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15 thoughts on “Naked Poem

  1. I was going to say, “Been there. Done that.” How you doing I don’t know. But this has been something I have been through. What you did, you did with absolute beauty. This is truly great. And deeply moving.

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