Death

2 Comments

Tags:
  • Emotional
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  • Dark Poetry
    • ,
  • Death
    • countrychaos
    • Well everyone, three weeks and Im gonna be the father of a baby boy. Words cant describe how excited I am. Also a little scared. Ive posted a song that Im workin on let me know how you like it.

    Poem Commentary

    I honestly don't know where this came from. I just sat down and started writing and this is what came out.

    Death

     

    Blood flows from the open wound like pain from a broken heart.

    Dim thoughts and faded visions run through her mind, a movie of broken dreams and things left undone.

    The voices of her friends and loved ones call to her, seperate sounds meshed together to form a single, soft roar.

    Coldness envelops her body with the tenderness of a lovers touch.

    Darkness slowly seeps into her eyes as she draws her last breath,

    and yet, she feels no pain, for she is free.

     

     

     


                                                                 11 Nov 2006                                                                                                 JD

    Poem Comments

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    sammia commented on Death

    03-17-2010

    Wow that was a great write. Most of the time some of our greatest poems we have no idea where they come from. It was short and to the point.
    Reply to Comment

    1990lh commented on Death

    10-04-2009

    wow that was short and yet it told a story very beautiful, dark, but beautiful nonetheless, and i so understand when u say this came out of nowhere my poem UNEXPLORED MIND came got of nowhere as well i didnt really undertand the meaning until after i posted ppl start pointing out things and thoughts that they thought the poem repersent so that was new for me hehe u should read i would like to see what u think about that one as well. :0)
    Reply to Comment

    When power leads man towards arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses.

    John F. Kennedy (1917-1963) Thirty-fifth President of the USA

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