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  • At a Loss

    At a Loss


    Sundered from succoring sleep,

    from the dreaming Poppy's seep,

    what ache of memories

    flood numbed senses

    to weep at the poet's

    words, seared sensibilities

    chastened by the chilling grave

    feel the waste laid on love

    to make a desert

    of the heart.

  • #2
    So forlorn
    those early morning hours
    can be. Yet words
    appeared, in painful beauty,
    opening a way.

    Comment


    • Johntee
      Johntee commented
      Editing a comment
      Thanks RLW It seems many Rhymezone
      participants are familiar with loss
      in one form or another.

  • #3
    How weird that such a dismal image strikes such beauty: that's the edge of darkness I know. A desert of a heart. Very good poem, thanks for sharing.

    Smoooth.

    Comment


    • Johntee
      Johntee commented
      Editing a comment
      Thanks AmenOra In Northern Ireland
      the word desert is incorporated into some
      place names such as Desertmartin but here
      it meant a desolate boggy wasteland

  • #4
    Really liked alot

    Comment


    • Johntee
      Johntee commented
      Editing a comment
      Thanks TS Your comment
      carries weight

  • #5
    A lyrical masterpiece that strikes the heart. Your words, Johntee, are sublime.

    Comment


    • Johntee
      Johntee commented
      Editing a comment
      Thanks NYS. You might see I thought the same of Narcissus.

  • #6
    Hello Johntee, A desolate heart beats in the pangs of poetic brilliance. Awfully sad and awfully beautiful. How the heart cares in such poetry is poetry itself. Fine, fine literature, indeed. You are in good health, I hope, Tony.

    Comment


    • Johntee
      Johntee commented
      Editing a comment
      Thanks for your regard Tony. I'm the same as normal (normal for me that is).
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