Not Lost in France

Poetry

Sunday, April 26, 2009

A Truthful Lie.

Tortured bodies

leaving

wasted sentiments

struggle to

meet.

The silent prayer

issued from

before

inciting

the trembling

being

to

scream

for release.

Tightened

muscles

inflict

their strained

desire to

climb

to other

heights.

Leaving

our breath

hanging on

deaths

wish

we

disappear

with the

night.

© David English July 14th 2002.

 

Blue Eyes..

Your skin once so

fair

now laced

with red

Your once

blue eyes

iced

with deaths regard

Your

last breath

as I

withdrew

the finely honed

blade

from your

spreaded thighs

The smile

I thought I’d

seen

Then

the silence of

your muted

lips as you

thanked

me for

your

release.

David English © July 1st 2002.