Wednesday, February 4, 2009

still a little rough

Love is the color red.
Death the color black.

Who knows what strange bed-fellows
This world may allow,
When Death and Love lie so close
A bitter sweetness -- a perfume foul.

Red the blush on a lovers face
Red the lips that smile
Red the pounding heart that falls
To all Love's ways and wiles

Black the rotting teeth
Black the spotted skin
Black the hole that takes her
When Death has claimed a win

A rose the symbol of forever love --
A rose the coffins favorite flower.
Rose petals given to prove his love --
Rose petals placed to mourn Deaths hour.

For red is at its boldest,
When lying on sheets of black.
And love is felt most keenly,
When Death has taken it back.

mnb

No comments:

Post a Comment

Irreversable

half a league half a league half a league onward. . . a wind which whips the puddles dry. . .my friend you would not tell with such high zest. . . here where the world is silent. . .he took his vorpal sword in hand. . .nothing beside remains. . .the sun was shining on the sea. . . all the kings horses and all the kings men . . . lives of great men all remind us. . .

Once uttered, the words can't be unsaid
Once thought, a thoughts un-unthinkable
The written word can't be unread
A dream, once dreamt is unsinkable

So exposed our lives are filled
With a richness incomparable,
Which in time will always yeild
A damage unrepairable.

Followers