Slow Burn

Time has been

 unkind to the heart

with each ache

 another piece falls

into an open pit of the abyss

       cinders of burning ashes

       fiery embers of the past,

 crushing smoke's suffocation

have proved to make it

 impossible

to breathe

 or love         another

I heard the cries of smoldering love 

               dying a a slow death

                  the essence of black roses

                       laid to rest

burial would have been a much kinder fate

Reviews

[Tom]

A somewhat somber poem but no less intriguing for it, looks as if the wounds caused by life's trails impinged deeply and have now taken their toll on the weary subject and they seem beyond any kind of remedial therapy too mend this broken heart !

Beautifully penned poem, soulfully scribed !

[Frieda P]

Thanks so much for your lovely review Tom!

[Pryde Foltz]

I love the way you' ve placed the words--smoke and fire, very fitting given the slow burn that is romantic grief. As far the burn going out--those embers will in all likelihood continue to smoulder but let the warmth bring you comfort-you can love. Great write as always.

[Frieda P]

Thanks Pryde..much appreciated.

[Aethereal]

This is a sad poem of grief. The reality is that we must enjoy every present moment while it's ripe before it too is buried by the past. Must we feel grief for every passing delight, or is it much better to feel grateful that we had it when its time had come? Grief just makes it all the more difficult to enjoy all those new born moments that are yet to be. This poem has a beautiful free verse structure that emphasizes grief in a larger than life way. When I was a child, I had a playful little puppy who die in an accident, and I was sad about that at the time, but now all I remember is the good times we had together, all those adventures that we had together in the neighborhood for which I'm eternally grateful.

[Frieda P]

Thanks for your gracious review Aethereal, takes years to get to that point I'm afraid....

[Aethereal]

Time buries the pain, but above this layer of time sprouts all those delightful memories that never die, beautiful flowers that allow us to enjoy all those present moments that remain in our life all the more.

[Frieda P]

No, thankfully they do not, but it depends on who you're talking about, seems time is just that, more time to reflect on loss some days....

[Aethereal]

But that's life since life is all about change, and change implies the inevitability of loss. To live is to gain followed by loss. Joy is found in the moment of gain. Our joys never leave us within our memory as more joys follow. One door must close for another to open.

[Sami Khalil]

"I heard the cries of smoldering love

dying a a slow death

the essence of black roses

laid to rest"
We lay things to rest but do we get any rest after them or after that loving heart has been buried beneath heaps of ashes and stones.
A very sad and relevant poem...Excellent...:)

[Frieda P]

Grazie Sami, glad you enjoyed my blue mood here. :-)

[Sami Khalil]

I did...Always...You are welcome...:)

[Chris]

Melancholy and hurt... quite the pair aren't they?

[Frieda P]

Hmm like a barrel full of monkeys Chris, thanks....

[SyberRose]

love does take a toll on the poor heart...nicely rendered Frieda...but never say never again as they say:)

[Frieda P]

That's what they keep telling me Rose, thanks muchly! ;-)

[Brandon]

A poem I can relate to, esp at this time. Excellent read and write.

[Frieda P]

Sorry to hear that GW...not a good place to be, thanks for your gracious review....

[Brandon]

you are welcome.

[Troy Henson]

Only the heart knows what the heart wants. Past feelings can still sit heavy in the heart making it tough to move on.

Nice one Frieda.
Regards
Troy

[Frieda P]

So true Troy, the heart needs to get some common sense, thanks so much my friend....

[icelandicblue]

At least burial would be quicker. I feel this one deep in my soul. Our hearts are the most vulnerable parts of ourselves.

[Frieda P]

Indeed Anne...thanks so much for your thoughts here.

[Jack...]

Often this is how the heart feels, no future when it peers forward, no joy when it looks inside, the world ends, but does it? The roses, black and laid to rest may die, but the bush from which these flowers were cut will surely bloom again...in time.

Very sad my sweet friend but oh so beautifully done in your amazing style and form. Lovely...

[Frieda P]

Always the luverlyest of reviews from you my dear friend, thanks so much Jack...

[Angel]

I couldn't have put it better myself. Love is a rare bird...seldom does he land twice in the same heart.
Beautifully penned, my friend.

[Frieda P]

A rare bird alright Angel, one that sings off key many times, thanks muchly my sweet friend.