3 From 15
Through change’s thickets,
a frayed and scratched soul bare.
But when they wanted my kids,
trust, the antidote of despair.
Mercy the sickle upon thorns,
wielded by a noble prayer.
Surprised by an Aunt.
Took her funeral for me to find
her shine, testaments to
a paragon, the selfless kind.
Legacies bleed stains
as life’s pages, we bind.
A poetry community project
betrayed its own art to declare
that for gold’s empty promise,
others mocked and did not care
Vanity’s absolute abstracts
spilled soup, scalded many there.
To Love, when it has you fight
or allows the sight to endear.
For as the vapor is a life,
our memories to disappear.
All but the three enshrined,
from the harvest of this year.
--------------------------------------------
Contest: My abiding memory
Sponsor:Viv Wigley
Written: 01.09.16
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
