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the unwritten work

Rats of MultaRats of Multa Posts: 250
edited November 2006 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
i dont write poems anymore
the seasons are too far passed that now

with rain gliding down an aging window
wind and weather buzz a haunting spirit in the air

no one hears the cries of falcons
circling beneath fervent death

that time drips into dissolutions of grandeur
and songs fall to the floor of recognition

our season is too far passed now
so i dont write poems anymore
we don’t know just where our bones will rest,
to dust i guess,
forgotten and absorbed into the earth below,..
Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • Jeremy1012Jeremy1012 Posts: 7,170
    Rats of Multa wrote:
    i dont write poems anymore
    I love how you started and ended the poem with that line. :) it works much better than it should.
    "I remember one night at Muzdalifa with nothing but the sky overhead, I lay awake amid sleeping Muslim brothers and I learned that pilgrims from every land — every colour, and class, and rank; high officials and the beggar alike — all snored in the same language"
  • JamalJamal Posts: 2,115
    Rats of Multa wrote:
    i dont write poems anymore
    And it seems you're not quite good at it :p

    seeing as to how you've just shared a nice example of one with us
    btw, thx for sharing, I liked reading it :)
    Surf little waves big... Charge big waves hard

    - Antwerp '06, Nijmegen '07, Werchter '07
  • Rats of MultaRats of Multa Posts: 250
    thanks there 'guys' [?--not sure of gender so i went w/ the ole editorial "guys"]...

    i got bored so i wrote that on the spot @ my friends' house in l.a.,...

    now i'm done.
    we don’t know just where our bones will rest,
    to dust i guess,
    forgotten and absorbed into the earth below,..
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