Swan song

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Pure speck in an ugly sky.
Feathers cut the music of the wind,
with irony tempered by a lie.
The city where we all have sinned
is empty now, its haunted streets
stalked here and there by ghosts that should have been
Ever sleeping beneath dirty sheets
their eyes blind save to the obscene.

The swan song of our species
was long ago suppressed.
A society in pieces
by broken chains oppressed.
In these easy times
the stronger souls have snapped,
leaving only battered lines
that the cynics scrapped.

Swan feathers tumble leisurely
more human than us all.
The minor chord and melody
accompany the mournful call.
My friends are dead or gone
lives lost but never born.
At last, all words are done.
I welcome the final dawn.

• Heavy

  by BunnymasterG

  Posted Oct 27, 2008
  +6
  “leaving only battered lines
  that the cynics scrapped.”
  I love this metaphor, it’s clearly expressed and valid.
  The swan feathers were used very well, they were a good seam to hold the poem together with. The rhythm was spot on. I’m not sure about the first stanza, it works ... (read more)

• Date Added
• Oct 25, 2008 at 4:50 PM
• Article Type
• Literature
• Genres
• Poetry
• Topics
• Society
• Overall Statistics
• 188 Views
• 3 Votes
• Site Rankings
• #209 for Score
• #187 for Popularity