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Jonathan Risinger Poem
The tapestry of a clean slated peace
Is as hollow as a birds frail bones
Like the rival between the lion and lamb
The strongest stands always alone
Down trodden paths with little use
Not permanent, they lie while they can
Sunlight breaks and their spirits lift up
To the sky they reach with their hands
Profiting wars point to powerful sides
Nailed by increase in stock
Innocence lost is in a sense gained
By hypocrites in palace like mosques
My martyred memory of a stifled calm
Braided and breaks, too and fro
Slinking down this remote incline
Like a beat in a modern tempo
Copyright © Jonathan Risinger | Year Posted 2005
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Details |
Jonathan Risinger Poem
The crow was cawing.
Perched on a tear in the breeze.
Weeping over the flowered wreath.
Whispering on the lips of a Lilly
and lingering.
The smell of the dead doth deafen,
when depression becomes divine.
There simply is no glory left
in the empty fortunes told.
A promise had been given
and forgotten so long ago.
Mourning and the bird is startled.
I remember those feathers tumbling.
As if teasing, in a clumsy manner,
the bottom of that six foot hole.
And the dirt did quench its thirst
Then I suddenly realized,
we were in the cemetery strolling.
I was walking and you were floating.
You asked me to stay and I replied
Never has death sounded so sweet
Wiping the sleep from my eyes.
Jonathan Peter Risinger
Copyright ©2005 Jonathan Peter Risinger
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Copyright © Jonathan Risinger | Year Posted 2005
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