Frederic Parker Poet Free verse

The Empty Days

To drink from the chalice of loneliness
filled with my passion's pain
taken from the crooked hand of age
clenched by the years of love's soul
its wormwood draught is less bile that stains
to let spill and wash the earthen floor of time
where my heart now lives
in its dim-lit realm of shades
where shadows cloak the darkness
and tomorrows fade away
I'll gouge out the grieving globes
that is my eyes...so I may only hear
my rambling rumblings of rumination
of why you died 


3/2/18

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Leanne Lovejoy-Burton March 4, 2018 at 9:49 PM I wish I could write like this...how do you channel another era? Beautiful essential delivery of sadness in such an eloquent manner.

Anne-Lise Andresen March 2, 2018 at 1:34 PM - A really sensitive and sad poem, Frederic :) - hugs // Anne-Lise :)

Heidi Sands March 2, 2018 at 1:24 PM Deeply sad and well written Frederic :)

Carrie Richards March 2, 2018 at 1:13 PM The grief, the agony of such a loss is reflected through the poem like the evening sun as it lowers itself into the sea. So tenderly sad and yet so beautiful