Aches of a Bow
.-G-.
.-R-.
.-O-.
.-O-.
.-V-.
.-E-.
.-S-.
pierce my ears,
caressing notes to rake
tears on such moonlit aches,
strings groan through passages
on breaths as scrapes of violin
lurch; veiled weeping dives
low like fine spear falling
on my riddled head,
as if to crack reeds
just there,
enthralled
by heaves of waved air
swelling along melodies
tragic in liquid gothic drones,
my old innocence plucked raw
beyond deep allegro of time;
tunes' long drags hard to bear
peeling my burnt flesh slow
the fine bow screeches,
I cry on slain notes.
©
by nette onclaud
for Craig Cornish
Concrete/Shape Contest
Copyright © Nette Onclaud | Year Posted 2012
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