Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Poem of the Day - This Disaster

This Disaster by A.S. Washington

Around me is disaster,
A gaping hole of minute features ignored,
I am not the culprit,
Nor the criminal mind,
Fleeing though, is something I tend not to find,
Satisfying; nor could I live with myself,
To be run over, while catastrophe reigns,
King I am, thus it has to be hanged; this disaster.

Lambasting is not enough,
A first responder, not equipped to handle,
Still I persist, with dangerous gambles,
In hopes that muck turns to wine,
In time I trust, that wings shall spread,
Covenants will be made of this thing I've dreamt,
And the flapping of them will seem not feigned,
If I could fly from here; this disaster.

Yes, it is the bed I've slept in,
Within a cradle of needles,
Piercing my conscious,
Disobeying my orders, which must be feable,
For I have been slave in an acquainted hive,
Running away from the track, of my racing mind,
Will I have the courage to stand,
To face the time when confined here; in this disaster.

Sadly this is not a telling of truth precise,
But a weeping of man, grasping a useless knife,
Unable to cut free the shackles of self infliction,
Pray not upon knees or back, because of helplessness,
I'd like none to be able to decipher these words,
But it must be said, as I lose twice the nerve,
To stand upon the beach of comfort, needing not to long,
That shall be the moment when it has passed and gone; this disaster.

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Poem of the Day - In Happiness Dwell
Poem of the Day - Writing Home 
Writing Senryu is Fun and Challenging
Words of the Weary King

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