Posted: September 4, 2014 in Poetry
Tags: ,


I fed on sorrow today
And it constipated me
Twice I refrained from its feeding
But it’s conscienceless
And would countless time make
Me bite hard its sourness.

Shall I plea? It hears not
For my weakened soul would only whisper
And sorrow’s drum only vibrate
When the voices chime
Shall I ever be happy again?
For with sorrow, my voice got withered

My bloods may soon be sick
My voice, a twice dumb
Wither to sleep or die shall now question
But to die shall be made aglow
So I may not wake again
To see the hurting pain

Then in death I live many lives
Life of yellow and roseate existence
Where sorrow shall relinquish its power
And pain shall have nothing up its sleeve
Till death shall later come in death
And memories shall speak of my lived life.


  1. Your work is free verse and much like painting in an open field…you allow your thoughts to guide your fingers in covering a blank page with meaningful and truthful words. ajm

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