September, December, April (Angel of Sadness)
My birthday, Ur Christmas, His death
Toe to toe, heals to floor, fallen with missed steps
The 21st day of September
9th child of birth, must be hell for her to remember
Then again, maybe she's happy
Living life rejoiceful, sitting on the same doorstool
Bless the heart of this poor fool
That was my birthday, this is ur Christmas
As if holidays were forgotten
Seems these passing noels only could kiss us
Perhaps that's good enough
Besides, this is coming from a child
Whom never understood himself
Circling thoughts, is he abandoned
Is he still a follower of ur Christ
Temperatures heated
No longer do I lay immortal on melting ice
Recieve your gifts, for misery will never decieve this myth
That's Ur Christmas, this is his death
First weekend of April, last sunday of February
Love me! I'll wed you, then be buried
I've become fond of you
But I'll never miss this burden I've carried
Granted no sins, no chances to win
In this failing day, I'm so eager to attend
Ur son, my mothers child, have my coffin rest on another isle
My brother I knew little of you
But I miss your smile
This was my birthday, Ur christmas, His death
Copyright © Jerry Golden | Year Posted 2007
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