Remains

In this cage
my pen
sits and
rots

Words die

Emotions
fester and boil

My life is built on lies

Facing the truth is my demise

I am broken in all the right places

I lie to myself in all the wrong ways

The end is where the begging starts

Truth strung along words
like your tongue understood
what I wanted to hear

Greedy and lustful
hunting all you covet

Hopeful and open hearted
I trusted in your words

Than words failed
poetry died

And art
lays decaying
in an open grave
for passersbys
to come and view
the remains
of love



By Samantha Pruitt

Reviews

[Tai Ryens]

Poetry thriving after death, screaming to you from beside the box it rests in, until eventually your subconscious picks it up and adapts to word the things it heard from a deceased sense of poetry . . Well done, indeed, keep it up,

[Shaquana Adams]

I like that dark ending. The picture matched perfectly. Great work! ^-^
-QuanaWana

[Wynter Ignatius]

"Truth strung along words
like your tongue understood
what I wanted to hear"

Always wonderful seeing your work, but this segment struck a chord with me.

As always, keep it up.

[Mike Emil]

there is no cage in kohlrabi theater
you will be welcome
HAI!!!

[Avinash]

The Nostalgia and Melancholy is haunting and beautiful at the same time.

[Coyote Poetry]

You are a amazing woman. Can write with passion and with skill about the word.
"Than words failed
poetry died"
Sometime we can feel. Words are meaningless. But Dryden said it best. Writers must write to describe true and real things. Not fearing defeat or being in harms ways. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Samantha ~virginpoet]

Dryden nailed it on the head for me ... Steve tends to get upset about my poetry when it is about him he thinks its in a negative way but I write to breath I write not to lose my temper I write to recover I am an emotional writer unlike him I cant write fiction cause my poetry comes from my heart and soul it is me laid out on the page living and dying I would die a most torturous death if I could not write my soul would wither my fire would fade I'd give up I would just be an empty shell I would be the walking wounded this link to my poem describes what Im trying to say most of the verses that is lol http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/VirginPoet/809758/ its called Ballad of The Heartless

Thank you so much for your reviews

[Lyn Anderson]

the image is perfect to go with the piece. No critique except to say well done.

[Gypsy Warrior Queen]

Well if that ain't the truth I don't know what is....There are so many great lines in this that I can't even explain how this reaps through my soul at the moment. I almost feel like I am lying in the grave and you are looking in. This is the real deal dear Samantha! I've subscribed to your truth :)

[Samantha ~virginpoet]

Thank you so very much

we are all in a grave as poetry covers us we are all being viewed

[Madalyn Beck]

I don't know how you do it. I love this! You have showed us your open would as we watch and wait for it to heal. Raw emotions here. Fantastic! xo (:

[Samantha ~virginpoet]

Thank you so much Madalyn

I don't really do anything I am just a vessel that poetry flows through ...

Poetry is my Mistress and I her poor slave
she loves to use me for her nefarious intentions
by way of ink blood tears and cum
she flows through me and poetry
rewrites my fluid soul

um see she has me in her grasp yet again lol

[Madalyn Beck]

Well, goodness! A woman possessed by poetry! (;

She is a mighty beast - that poetry
read moreWell, goodness! A woman possessed by poetry! (;

She is a mighty beast - that poetry
When she takes over, we are lost
To the words, the verbs, the adjectives of the soul
And yet...
When poetry isn't in our veins,
Burning, singing, and clawing through,
We beg and cry and b***h and whine
For another taste of her heroine.
Addicted is an understatement.

[Madalyn Beck]

Ok, this site really sucks at times. Hahaha!
Well, goodness! A woman possessed by poetry! (;read moreOk, this site really sucks at times. Hahaha!
Well, goodness! A woman possessed by poetry! (;

She is a mighty beast - that poetry
When she takes over, we are lost
To the words, the verbs, the adjectives of the soul
And yet...
When poetry isn't in our veins,
Burning, singing, and clawing through,
We beg and cry and b***h and whine
For another taste of her heroine.
Addicted is an understatement.

[Michael Stevens]

A wonderful memorial for a once-living love!