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Composition in D Minor

Withered fingers
Cannot play anymore;
I drown in nuanced shades of blue,
Not seeing, in my plight,
My strings, wound tight,
Suspending me
Like a puppet,
Tethered to life.

I in my tattered clothes,
Blue like sorrow,
Torn like the heart that hopes,
Unable to keep out the cold
Or cover the secrets I hold—
I am the man who mopes,

               Holding my guitar close
               As it whispers its chords
               Whilst I, cross-legged, ponder
               Life in rags and cardboards.

Back to the old routine:

               Awash in blue,
               This song’s for you:

Echoes of a gunshot;


                              The click of a trigger.

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Beata Agustin

Date: 12/14/2024 9:04:00 PM

Thanks for sharing this... exposing your thoughts through your unique poetic style. Welcome to Poetry Soup. I welcome you with the love of the Lord, expressed by John 3:16 of the Bible, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Be blessed.