Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.135.218.109

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

I wonder what he was thinking, the man 
mounted on a stool, with his elbows resting on the bar, 
eating a Big Mac and sipping coffee from a McCafe coffee cup. 

The outside view he was watching through the glass wall 
is the flickering lights over the parking lot and
the sounds of galloping horses on the road.  

As usual, among those galloping horses,
some may be carrying today, which is heavier than the day, 
on his aching back, while others run with full speed 
looking forward to a better tomorrow; 

yet, there is a horse, like one of the remnants of a defeated army 
who fought the difficult battle where there is no today, no tomorrow,
but struggle after struggle of dogfight and defeat, dragging his feet
with a heavy burden.

Since there is no color or outline of an object in the dark
you are unable to distinguish one horse from the other, 
such as the high-spirited grand Shire, the tiny amiable Falabella, 
the gracefully elegant Akhal-Teke, or the Mule, born to carry heavy 
load till dies.

That’s why the darkness is beautiful, 
it doesn’t have a color like the death; yet, 
it’s not comparable to the darkness of the grave 
because it’s only the flip side of the day. It will drag 
you into the light, compel you to see the sun in the morning. 

As coffee gets colder, the smell of coffee goes away,
and further, the taste of coffee becomes bitter with elapsing time. 
Then, from the empty feeling of missing something, he bites into 
the hamburger held in his hand and hears the “moo…” the last cry 
of a sorrowful cow dragged into a slaughter house. 

Though death is, beautiful if it’s accompanied by a dirge,
the moment of death by force is, although the soul may be 
lighter than a feather, a lot heavier than the weight of the world.

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required