Lamentable Day

Hold me above the world and let me die

Until every piece of me spills from high.

Let the judgmental glares of all that see

View the curdling blood within fall out free.

In the crimson pool my story be writ

While my memory is lost to the pit.

A minuscule friendship shall send parcel,

Praying joyous love and not deep dark hell,

But that will be lost among people's prints

Who outshine all of my memory glints. 

Stain my soul canvas with your scarlet brush,

Giving me not a single moment hush.

Show me the hospital where I was born

Among every little shirt once worn

To bed, to play, to holidays long past

And days in the schoolyard went by so fast.

See the mountains I saw from the summit

And see the riverside trees I would plummet

Skipping small rocks farther than I could count

Across the lakes and ponds I would surmount.

Within a second my whole life ended

No time given for holes to be mended.

Onlookers all will weep just a moment

Then other places their time better spent.

Pleasantly passing past the blood painting

Forgetting relatives sadly fainting.

From a moments woe shortly dispatched,

Body wrapping hugs will soon be unlatched

While in circles Earth spins soundly around

Before their listless lives return track bound.

Reviews

[Onlyme]

This is a woeful, sad, deep poem. About life but more so death. How once our blood is spilt it's not long after we are forgotten, as we transcend and flickers of our memory are showcased within our mind's eye. As our life dies. And then we are reborn anew with a twist.

[Cass Ashe]

We can only hope to be remembered, can't we? Thanks for the wonderful insight!

[Onlyme]

Cassian, that is so very true. We really do hope we are remembered and left some sort of mark on this planet. I liked this piece you did a lot. Made me think and ponder.

[Cass Ashe]

I'm glad it was so thought provoking!

[VinneTheCreator]

I loved your poem. It gave a glimpse into the heart and mind of someone dying wanting to be remembered but knowing that others will forget. Your use of vocabulary was superb. For example, "Stain my soul" fits the tone of the story much better than anything else I could imagine. Paint would fall short, Draw on is to bland. In the first stanza, the imagery was incredible. I feel as though I could actually see the man being held with blood dripping from his corpse/near corpse. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this poem.

[Cass Ashe]

It makes me so happy to read that you were able to envision it so well, and I'm glad I could write something you could enjoy so much! Thanks!