© RH Peat 8/7/2011 6:40pm
Form: 4 quintilla / 20 lines
Metaphor: Fear in disagreement.
Where Forgiveness Dies
Where Forgiveness Dies
The image of the ageless stone goddess crosses
our winding path in a dark silhouette with the scent
of anger and passion. Her mouth begins to drool
with the grains from history’s blown desert sands,
a grim red line that bleeds through starry night.
When her rusty iron gates were opened, a blackness
oozed out over the land darkening love’s lost heart
and panting breath. Life wilted on its crooked scar
where her glinting blade severed innocence’s pulse.
And succor limped away with bleeding wounds.
Quick—slay all the martyrs dressed in thorns. Christ
is hiding in the olive orchard with his sleepy brothers.
As Lincoln and Ghandi’s misunderstood grace found
an assassin lurks in the shadows of every theater.
Even Rumi was swiftly slain by his son’s bladed hand.
Can anyone love this dark goddess more than
the hairs on their graying head. Her eye’s are a
vindictive blade that carries vanity’s feared sword;
it is double-edged, and her swing cuts both ways.
A reaper in the field she wants all seed in payment.
© RH Peat 8/7/2011
Haunting homage to the time honored ritual of mutually assured destruction.
nice poem
Nice and deep, your poems are always meaningful and bold.
Ron, you never fail to impress....very powerful use of the metaphor..
You produce a powerful metaphor, Ron...stanza one opens up as a brilliant burst of fire- opens out your poem theme emphatically...a stong and warning message your poem presents...nice
This is amazing! I am speechless. Very impressive title, powerful use of metaphor and needless to say, brilliant crafting! Best lines: "Life wilted on its crooked scar where her glinting blade severed innocence’s pulse. And succor limped away with bleeding wounds."
Hope they the Politicians are reading it. Nice one
A thought provoking poem Ron ! Thanks for sharing ! -Raj
# grrains from the history's blown sands.... The visit of shenanigans from historic catacombs of time , to shake and stir the present ...relfection of divine anger .... # the wounds inflicted by the darkness and the chopping of innocence ..the limp of the succour manifests the severity of the damage ...# the assasins lurking in shadows in the theatrical domains , where every action is rehearsed and packed with the punch that damages the face of humanity beyond recognition ....# the double edged swords do not know the directions , their karma is to severe and cut to pieces what was once a conscious dream....the reaper shall collect the seeds too and the fields shall go back on the path that leads to their home in history ...
Amen!...Bookmark...send to all the politicians in this USA... Dorothy A Poet Who Loves To Sing
This is my second /third/fourth reading of this deeply, passionate verse...I feel as though I am standing in a war zone and you have come to warn us to get out, as we cannot win. A really finely written poem in form and voice. Dorothy A Poet Who Loves To Sing