Chris Green Poet Rhyme

Death Becomes Art

There, on a sill of contentious decisions
Glass shards sit waiting a wavering hand
Reflective the memories wrapped ‘round the curtains
Lost in a pane that she can’t understand

Chilled calls the breeze through a jagged eviction
Scenting the air neath a ceiling now stained
Dampening dreams behind oven doors gaping
Finding the pilot light has not complained

Ripping out pages of scribbled delusions
Day becomes night in the depths of her mind
Chasing the echoes when no one will answer
Begging each shadow for something to find
   
Setting a table of rounded persuasions
Watching fluorescents fade fast in her eyes
Turning the knob towards a sorrowed direction
Why is there none who react to her cries

Loneliness peels back the layered condition
Voices of reason have fled to her past
Fearing the worst will come visit tomorrow
Sensing the hour shall now be her last

So many days and the roses need pruning
Nary a movement is noticed inside
Caught in his thoughts that her words had intentions
If only those moments ignored would confide 

Desperate ink found in fingertip writings
Penned by the demons left roaming her head
Still haunts the question of fear never listened
Death becomes art in the stanzas unread

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Freddie Robinson Jr. November 14, 2016 at 6:20 PM Just a simply great poem, Chris. Flat-out. On every level, it breathes greatness. Metaphorically superb. Thematically thought provoking. Verbal imagery illuminating. You are hereby granted poetic license to print cosmic consciousness money. Can be used anywhere in the Universe where there is sentient life. Live long and prosper, my friend. Much love to you.

John Lawless November 10, 2016 at 8:59 AM The title ... and then that first line "gotcha" ..Chris this is one of those poems that I had to read several times....drawn back to its depth and sadness. I shall Fav this as it found that space of loneliness in my heart. Great write.... Chris Green November 10, 2016 at 9:40 AM Thanks John, what a great review of my poem. I am thrilled you liked this one so much, enough to save it as a fav. I appreciate that my friend.

Keith O.J. Hunt November 9, 2016 at 5:52 PM Superb write Chris, a sad but very enjoyable read, well written, deep, like it! Keith Chris Green November 10, 2016 at 8:10 AM Thanks so much Keith, I am thrilled you enjoyed this poem. It is loosely based on the depression and death of Sylvia Plath. I'm glad you liked this one.

Heidi Sands November 9, 2016 at 5:33 PM Very deep with sadness, loneliness. Makes one hope the person comes out of despair. Chris Green November 10, 2016 at 8:07 AM Thanks so much Heidi. When I wrote this my intention wasn't for it to go the direction it did, but my pen had other ideas.

Charmaine Chircop November 9, 2016 at 5:24 PM Oh poetry will always hear her cries..I believe...and that is why through desperate ink ..her figertip writings make their release....and pain is washed away...So very powerful and deep this poem...Indeed it is. Chris Green November 10, 2016 at 8:06 AM Thank you so very much my sweet friend. Yes, in most cases you are right, as poets we often pour our hearts out in our work hoping a special someone will see and comfort us. It doesn't always work out that way. But, I am happy you stopped by to read this one, it always makes me smile when you do.