Final Dawn

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  • Loss

    Final Dawn
    Hurt like broken bone
    A snapped twig
    A raven’s flight across the sky
    Red streaks at its wing tips
    Blood, smoke
    These are the food steps of the mighty - cruel one
    Who goes in the morning to twist
    Minds and hearts
    Thieving in the night
    Stealing happiness from sleepy eyes
    Cutting open old wounds
    Filling them with new blood
    Holding the searing flame to it

    Broken hope
    In ocean of misery
    Memory of good times fading
    Where to go?
    Happiness is but a little part of it

    Let’s go to the healing sleep of forgetfulness
    False friends, foes in disguise
    An innocent heart waiting for redemption

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    Moni’s Poems (17)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    WHY? 2 03/07/2009
    New Life 0 03/07/2009
    A New Dawn 0 03/07/2009
    Final Dawn 0 03/07/2009
    My Lord 4 03/04/2009
    My Stars 1 03/02/2009
    An Iron Broom 0 03/01/2009
    Dead Trees 0 03/01/2009
    Inward 0 02/27/2009
    Roses that don't smell 1 02/27/2009
    The Feast 1 02/27/2009
    Dedicated to nosy/preying people: 0 02/27/2009
    Lost Love 0 07/20/2009
    The Old Railroad 2 07/20/2009
    The Threads of Life 1 02/24/2009
    The Goal is here and Now 0 02/24/2009
    The Center of all Things 0 02/23/2009
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