He Speaks
Become a
Premium Member
and post notes and photos about your poem like Stark Hunter .
From the anthology, Complaining to the Clock, a work in progress. I wrote this late last night. But I don't recall writing it. This is the first poem I have ever written that actually scares me.
He Speaks
Drums pelting like a hard shower of surprised thunder,
Assaults the persons walking on the narrow unused road.
The only way to the old hermit- it is paved with polished pseudo-stones,
Travelled upon by the ringed flesh of divergent feet.
He looked downward with sad eyes upon our arrival, and said:
“Don’t lose faith, now that the hour approaches,
The Day comes like a bold traveler,
Seeking to take your patience and faith in my holy pronouncements,
To think my word is dead or that it breathes lies to the fools.
But I say my word and my countenance
Will soon pierce the spiritual membrane;
That invisible curtain separating the here and the there,
The earth and the heavens; my time and your time.
Know that my patience is at an end.
Know that I will bring my hand upon the degenerate in judgement,
You, who concede that “The Lie” is better than the Cross.
Prepare for the beginning of woes to those
Who choose to reject my free gift of redemption.
You can still choose Life now, but later you must die to gain it.
Behold! My voice will speak as a King in power
For what is right and true, in the here and the there.
I am your King in waiting. I am coming for you.
Soon. Very soon.”
Drums ricocheting its soft thuds
Like a soft shower of surprised tranquility,
Accompanies the persons walking on the narrow unused road,
To the old hermit, which is paved with golden crested diamonds,
Travelled upon by the ringed slaves with divergent feet,
He looked straight into my eyes upon arrival and enfolded me.
Copyright © Stark Hunter | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment