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Below is the poem entitled Recourse which was written by poet Greg Jr Torres. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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The old man bends his   
to the graveyard of 
His barren stretched arms  
raise up. 
Orates the last 
of his unpronounced 
for a piece of sky,
for a grip of dust.

Like that of a master 
and his beast 
to pull the bondage 
of labour and grin. 
The latter's breath 
of unspelled words 
reveals a stealth 
of cracked soil, 
a labyrinth of deep  
and shallow wounds- 
of the earth. Touch-
me-not grows 
and blooms and suckles 
from these breasts of hardened 
inaudible numbness. 

The quiet morning  dew, 
splinters over the barrow
a thousand bits, a handful of stain.
Gone is the deafening 
first flight 
of light, salvages, salvages-
a gentle sigh, the slightest 
of touch, 
from an old and cunning 
man, to the silhoutte of  
scorched earth; an impasse  
between the obvious 
and the pale.

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  1. Date: 4/27/2013 10:07:00 PM
    Wow I'm not going to lie but you drew the dark mood out so well, subtle yet creepily vivid, it creeps me out in a funny way. And I especially like your exploration of silence here. Such a fine piece you have here, Greg.