Fractured Light Through Stained Glass Window.

September 29, 2008 at 7:00 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 13 Comments
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it is afterall the last taboo
death spoken of in euphemisms
and some do softly pass
others rage and fight
and leave dark bruises on my arm
my dear that faded over days
into the yellow of your bile
i begged them let her go
it’s the destiny she chose
she blames me now but i

don’t worry son the copper said
we’ve heard it all before
them dying will say anything but
it’s them that broke God’s law

the fire lit around her feet
and then a mighty roar


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  1. I walked into an all things weird and twinkly shop yesterday in the Lanes and there was a Witch’s Bible in a black cover. I’m still pondering that.

    Your poem is slick, dark and sets a feeling of depressive resignation. The ending, of course, is perfect for extending the reader’s mind beyond the moment.

    (I once got a clip around the ear – literally – for calling a policeman a copper in front of my dad, who was an ex-copper himself (ha!). I never did really know why.)

  2. and the executions continue

  3. and some do softly pass
    others rage and fight

    How true, how true

  4. let the burning begin in this morbid darkness, the flames will lick at your wound and soul

  5. you always give me so much to think about and feel about

    the yellow bile bruise move is masterful and the way you bring in “my arm” –my mind wants to stay abstract but it gets real and physical and there is the bruise to prove it

  6. loved this! this warm, familiar voice…

  7. a glide thru dying to a witness ending, with accent hues and foggish smoke, stunning chiaroscuro noir piece

  8. I just love the last two lines, and the way the whole poem conveys the paradoxes of dying, one way or the other.

  9. I like to think of life as a marathon … and indeed, not all of us are marathon runners. Not all of us will be able to endure the journey fully. No, some of us will collapse … on the side of the road … breath escaping us ….

    But not just yet.

  10. I love the ‘fire lit around her feet’ line, brilliant!

  11. Thanks everybody. The adventure continues. “There is no last word just as there was no first.”

  12. excellent, as always, I especially love the title and what it means in terms of the poem.

  13. Rage, Rage against the dying of the light!!!

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