I grasp the safety rail
and admire the view.
Beneath ancient cliffs
of grey and gold,
a sea of trees swell
into the blue white mist.
The cold wind presses me
with love of the depths;
I feel like a bird
in the light open air,
above clean space,
It would not hurt if I fell...
Poverty grot and grime
Have existed throughout time
A place where intellect and truth cannot shine
All of this is embodied on Isle 49
Segregated due to types and shapes
Men acting like thoughtless apes
Not even allowed to eat the smallest of grapes
All of this is embodied in Aisle 49
The occasional safety rail
Offers no protection from the emotional hail
And the sound when Turbo starts to wail
All of this is embodied in Aisle 49
The convergence of two great areas
Starting the creation of diseases like Malarias
Reminding me of great operatic arias
All of this is embodied in Aisle 49
Oh Iku why have you forsaken me
All I ever wanted was to make you see
That I had one ready.
You didn't shake
as much in
the psych ward,
possibly because
of the medication.
A cocktail of
paxil, seroquel,
lithium and sedatives.
The white walls
dimmed your
pale complexion.
The pink rosed
paintings on the
wall reflected
the first bit
of color returning
to your peaked
gaunt cheeks, and
big sad eyes.
You'd get so angry,
trying to hold back
cries...stressed
from all the secrets
of your condition that
the uniforms and
clipboards kept
from you.
We'd walk the
circular hallway.
My black work loafers
and your socks
circumfrencing the
middle ground of
sanity.
We'd hold eachother
in the corner, under
the light wood
safety rail.
You, propped up
against the wall.
Me..pressed againt
your chest.
You'd envelope
me with your
long arms and
whisper in my ear
between your tears
that this...
couldn't last forever.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.