A desk of roses

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• 5 Reviews
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Song and tears stream, dance
mingling sound and sorrow.
That swaying, miserable trance
dragging into tomorrow…
There he is, sat in shadow,
among the dripping timbers.
Our council estate barrow
disturbed by drumming fingers.
Alone at his desk, for hours,
centuries to a tired mind,
etching holy verbal flowers.
Screeching silence undefined
rings about the unmade bed,
along the cracked, peeling paint
into this unraveled head.
The seeping oil blackened taint
borders on a creamy world
smears an image, this ugly rose,
vile petals seeping, unfurled.
Place of peace, in its death throws
squalor in the empty home
he writes of love, alone.

• An elegant, well written piece

  by Dylan

  Posted Sep 18, 2008
  +4
  There is a fine line with dark poetry sometimes but this is handled well and has a subtle, melancholy feel to it. It is well written, with very good language use and imagery. Loved the opening 2 lines by the way, i thought they were excellent.
  
  I have to agree that there are flow issu... (read more)

• Date Added
• Aug 28, 2008 at 5:35 PM
• Article Type
• Literature
• Genres
• Poetry
• Topics
• People
• Overall Statistics
• 302 Views
• 10 Votes
• Site Rankings
• #34 for Score
• #68 for Popularity
• Honors Received
• Featured Article (9/18/08)