The Sun Is Setting Through My Mother's Face

Diamond sword, head on a silver plate;
The sun is setting through my Mother's face.
No longer interested and turns her back,
If I dare to show her my silver plaques

Trophies thrown, bombs in the sky;
Penetrating my heart until Dad is home.
No match for the sudden force,
while the sun is setting through my Mother's face.

Roses black and Angels hung;
Through the garden I find my hope.
The perfect rose, as bright as gold;
I pick it up; the survivor of the cold.

I raise it, love it, until drowned in love;
My Mother comes and destroys it all.
I try to show my golden plaque,
but.... it's hopeless

The sun has set through my Mother's face
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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Konos Avatar
May 12, 2015 at 9:11 AM
I hope you continue to write such excellent poetry....very impressive...thank you
Ray Avatar
May 11, 2015 at 8:28 PM
Simply superb! "The perfect rose, as bright as gold; I pick it up; the survivor of the cold.", lines are so poetic. Thanks for sharing.
Soto Avatar
May 12, 2015 at 7:19 PM
Thanks for your support. I will continue to pour my heart out.;)
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