Wednesday, March 25, 2009

wild horse of death races in the westward ho

today a wild horse
is racing through our halls
nostrils flaring
crazy eyes glaring
teeth bared
slow down death
wait for us to catch up with you
try to touch you
ask you
what sent you mad
you want death
you know that wont help you
only life will fix
whatever gave you this pain
you hate yourself
tomorrow you will be kinder
to your tortured soul
frothing at the mouth
now now try to sleep
but take care you dont
leave us in your drunken state
mistaking death for
mere sweet slumber
dont forget to wake up
wild man
tomorrow life will not be
so hard to take


sober white women said...

I love those flowers and the poem! You write so well.
When I am angry I write well, but other then that it usually just a bunch of rambling! LOL

Bohemian Cowboy said...

This is a great poem! I love your poems, crisp and clear, sad but hopeful. It left me sort of breathless... I'm learning to appreciate the great poem, this certainly qualifies. A good poem to me wastes nothing, I felt and got every line. thanks, mom.

Connie said...

I think I know what this poem is about.........your feelings come forth very well my friend...

Ann said...

Your poem touched my heart...and certainly could feel the snorting and stomping of death. It is full of energy and hope that the horse may calm down, quivering and snorting, to go on another day. May it be.


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