Fractals Photos Poetry Prose Watercolor

Thursday, January 15, 2009

The Pale Horse

more biting than
a surgeon's suture
stitching scalpel lines

a phantom wound
rising like last year's moon
sweeps into the night

folds pale shadows
in on one another
decades collapse

distort the calendar
until the first day
lies crushed and bleeding

unburied and raw
loss begins again

Totally Optional Prompts: The Other Side. Come along and play with this wonderful meme...



anthonynorth said...

Powerful! Eschatological, even!

Anonymous said...

Powerful imagery. You convey so well the ceaseless bloodshed across the centuries which 'begins again' with the new year.

maryt/theteach said...

Nice, very nice, tumblewords! :)

Q said...

I find grief to be just like this.
Always you touch deeply.
Thank you.

Anonymous said...

Whoah- wow- that IS mourning.
Seared right through me.

Anonymous said...

A beautiful dance of words...that slips up behind you and shocks you with the numbing truth.

Philip Thrift said...

You make the Pale Horse a lyrically shadowy creature in words and in brushstrokes.

Danny Wise said...

Wow, this goes beyond my understanding - way out into the heavenly realm, perhaps. Wonderfulwords!

Dave King said...

The poem was forceful in carrying me along with it.

Linda Jacobs said...

I love the "wound rising like last year's moon." And the simplicity of that last line makes the pain much worse!

Anonymous said...

a raw piece with a logic all its own. i can't say as i get all the images, but the aggregate is very strong.

Anonymous said...

scathing and truly painful how time collapses i know!

gautami tripathy said...

Filled with power...

clearly fading