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Array ( [sid] => 114591 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Backwater [time] => 2006-02-10 08:37:21 [hometext] => This poem is my first for a while. It is about clinging onto something that does not matter, but then being sad when it goes. Or that is how I interprate it. [bodytext] =>
The leaves rush past my ears, my head
I close my eyes, it leaves them dead.
Peace at last from all knowing silence,
Birth and rebirth, love and violence.

From within my jacket, I pull a gun
A wordless cry, a mirthless pun.
Click it, cock it, suck it in,
The smell of leather, the burning tin

**

Twice I fire into the air,
And laugh and cry and smile and stare,
For all there is, is madness there,
The woods shout back.

The birds they fly from tree to tree,
And all that’s left is earth and me
I will not give up, for he
The birds they fly.

They land on ground, muddy and black,
Heavy and rough as potatoes in sack
And for all I know they could go back
But they do not.

The birds they sit and peck and preen
Amongst the willows, brown and green
And all the life is in-between
These moments precious
[comments] => 5 [counter] => 220 [topic] => 13 [informant] => franko [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 13 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
Backwater

Contributed by franko on Friday, 10th February 2006 @ 08:37:21 AM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry




The leaves rush past my ears, my head
I close my eyes, it leaves them dead.
Peace at last from all knowing silence,
Birth and rebirth, love and violence.

From within my jacket, I pull a gun
A wordless cry, a mirthless pun.
Click it, cock it, suck it in,
The smell of leather, the burning tin

**

Twice I fire into the air,
And laugh and cry and smile and stare,
For all there is, is madness there,
The woods shout back.

The birds they fly from tree to tree,
And all that’s left is earth and me
I will not give up, for he
The birds they fly.

They land on ground, muddy and black,
Heavy and rough as potatoes in sack
And for all I know they could go back
But they do not.

The birds they sit and peck and preen
Amongst the willows, brown and green
And all the life is in-between
These moments precious




Copyright © franko ... [ 2006-02-10 08:37:21]
(Date/Time posted on site)





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Re: Backwater (User Rating: 1 )
by flamingblade on Friday, 10th February 2006 @ 12:19:47 PM AEST
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very real poem.
good job
alex


Re: Backwater (User Rating: 1 )
by Kayden on Friday, 10th February 2006 @ 04:12:41 PM AEST
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Great Job... Very descriptive... You could picture eveything in your mind... Awesome...
Keep it up...


Re: Backwater (User Rating: 1 )
by lostrelic on Friday, 10th February 2006 @ 04:36:54 PM AEST
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i like the wording you used in this post cool write


Re: Backwater (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Saturday, 11th February 2006 @ 03:18:46 AM AEST
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Vivid write. Good Job!

- SCM


Re: Backwater (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Friday, 24th February 2006 @ 05:24:39 PM AEST
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Many of us can look back and say.. oh my I guess I did have a lot in life.. for some reason made me think of old photographs.. how we view our own.. then when we get old we look back at them and say, wow, I was not so bad looking back then.. Look deeply through those branches.. there is life out there.. fire away, I pray you hit your target .. which is a beautiful life worth living.. no need to hold tears in, let them out, they are cleansing.. so much in this poem to benefit any reader.. hugs.. raquelLeah




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