- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Debris On A Cresent's Trail
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I wrote you down
just outside of Sargodha
on a chariot of gold
disguised as rust and diesel.
You didn't last to station,
left a forgetful grip fluttering
and left me to flutter my way
across the climbs.
Up there, Indus waited
to guide us towards
the edge of heaven,
an Eden scorched by man
and torn to dust grey
rubble by a million years
wept in a heartbeat.
I wrote you, I know.
But I couldn't take you there.
A thousand hollow eyes
and staggering souls
would consume you,
erase you from my scribbled note
and my scratching mind.
This way at least, I'll have
the memory of release.
- COMMENTS
LeBrozover 16 years agoThis poem was mentioned in the Archival Review thread, in a picking through Lit's archive of over 37,000 poems.
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Anonymousover 18 years agoThe story is engaging and the images are enthralling. I was puzzled by some of the line breaks, but enjoyed this very much.
Fly
Anonymousover 18 years agoI have read your work...strong title and it fits the poem so well..discriptive images are haunting and colorful...nicely done...bluerains
WickedEveover 18 years agoThe first couple of lines are a wonderful beginning. The entire poem is good, even staggering souls--mention of souls doesn't turn out the best in most poems.
