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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Death Waiting by the Door You, the kind one,
my now-absentee landlord,
I know you hide, waiting by the door for me
to turn in the key, so you can grant me
wings to soar and witness, from atop,
how you'll bare my skin and unseal my guilt,
my pleasures, or the cavernous dark,
the job I could never do on my own.
Then, after emptying me of those material things,
you'll direct me to a beauty
that makes poets weep; next,
you'll bend into my coffin
and lure my bones to stay
as your keepsakes.
14 lines
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Prompt:
Write a poem free-syle under 15 lines that gives life to death - personifying it in some unique way. Whether you portray death as kind or cruel, gentle or harsh, welcome or feared is not the key point. It's how you personify death itself. |
© Copyright 2006 Joy (joycag at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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