Poetry
A place to share and discuss poetry
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ARGENT
A medal of argent
on the chest of a sergeant
caught the eye of a certain
half-drunken bar gent.
“What’s it for?”
asked the fellow
in a voice tinged with mellow,
“How’d you get it?
Was there killing,
and if so, do you regret it?”
The soldier then prattled
on the tale of a battle
that had the bar patrons rapt and rattled
by the death and the gore,
blood and carnage galore,
and triumphant seizure of enemy chattel.
With a smirking grin
three other men reached in
to their pockets and each
held the medal's very twin!
“A nice story to tell, bro,
it failed to sell, though,
for we all recognize a frequent customer prize
from Mason Yellow, our local bordello.”
MMXXV: 302/365
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Bound Beyond the Grave
-By Nooriya Siddiqua
The night has teeth, it calls my name,
Through ash and bone, through death and flame.
Your touch still burns beneath my skin,
Though years of silence lie within.
I hear you breathe beneath the ground,
In every shadow, your pulse is found.
No church bell tolls, no dawn will rise,
For love like ours forever dies.
Yet even death cannot divide,
Our restless hearts still beat inside.
I feel your hand in every dream,
Your voice flows dark through moonlit stream.
The grave is cold, the stars decay,
But still your soul won’t fade away.
I walk the night where spirits weep,
To find the vow we swore to keep.
Let angels fear, let demons mourn,
For from this bond no flesh is torn.
Beyond all time, beyond all pain—
I’ll die, and find you once again. 1 reply
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The Rain Between Us
-By saarzu
Somewhere beyond this silver mist,
Your memory waits, unseen, unkissed.
The rain that falls on you tonight,
Is the same that touches me in light.
We stand apart, two distant skies,
Yet meet where every raindrop lies.
It carries whispers heart to heart,
Though miles and years keep us apart.
So when it rains, I close my eyes,
And feel your breath, your last goodbyes.
The world may split, but still it seems
The rain keeps joining all our dreams. 0 reply
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EXPERIMENT
Back in the day,
they’d jet me away
to meet with clients
in New York or L.A.
Now five years remote,
no planes, trains, or boat,
just my face in a square
on a grid, reading quotes!
I must leave this house,
give up laptop and mouse,
be with people again
else be driven insane.
Time to rejoin the dance,
ditch my felt loungewear pants,
trade this career experiment
for some social life merriment,
but no…
if I go…
who will water my plants?
MMXXV: 301/365
{The checkmark lets me post longer poems--hooray!}
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