my saprophytic love

my saprophytic love

A Poem by joshua deathdealer
"

05/2013

"
looking back, I am swept away
imagery gathers, of you
dancing softly in the
long black skirt that I loved
twirling around in the
very face of death
you were so beautiful
even fearless it seemed
enthralled, I held you back
from falling over the edge
as we kept up with
the blues of the day
together we laid by
the time passing
cutting into the mysteries
freezing still frames
chasing speedball lifestyles
the night was our friend
you always said
you couldn't wait
till I was thirty 
well here I am
the same ghost
you met then
just as in love
just as lost
without you
as I ever was

© 2013 joshua deathdealer


Author's Note

joshua deathdealer
saprophyte: a living thing and esp. a plant living on dead or decaying organic matter

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Featured Review

Wasn't it truly glorious ?.....Could you trade the special moments for any trinket or object of man's design.
The power of a passionate woman will bring even Kings and Gods to their knees.
Damn them...bless them...damn them...bless them...damn them...bless them.

Enjoyed your insight.

Scott

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

joshua deathdealer

5 Years Ago

This is a great comment man thx



Reviews

Very romantic work! That's for sure.

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Wasn't it truly glorious ?.....Could you trade the special moments for any trinket or object of man's design.
The power of a passionate woman will bring even Kings and Gods to their knees.
Damn them...bless them...damn them...bless them...damn them...bless them.

Enjoyed your insight.

Scott

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

joshua deathdealer

5 Years Ago

This is a great comment man thx
Memory is a funny and fickle thing: the things that we remember, that always linger near the surface, that may not have seemed so important at the time the event occurred, but that seem to be everything years later. Oftentimes, it’s the smallest of things – the way someone smiled, the sound of laughter, the smell of cologne, something sweet or corny that they said, or observing them doing something so free of thought that it made them transcendentally beautiful in that moment. No one is ever so beautiful as when they feel free from self-consciousness and can just be themselves, devoid of fear.

Your poem is a beautiful homage to a living memory that has kept that person with you all along. She walks with you.


Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

This is so beautiful, and the person you describe in this write, is truly a love or a soulmate of your own heart... the feeling I get from this gives me smiles, and happiness through all the pain that could exsist in life... it makes me feel you two are invincible, such a power in your words, and a trust. I think this survives by the love you have in you. Wonderful work my sweet friend xx

Posted 10 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Very emotional and aesthetically pleasing. Love the imagery. Kind of sad, but intense and philosophical almost. Well done.

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

saprophytic love...a wonderful metaphor....what's amazing is how long these things survive

Posted 11 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

302 Views
6 Reviews
Rating
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on November 28, 2013
Last Updated on November 28, 2013
Tags: love, dark, poetry

Author

joshua deathdealer
joshua deathdealer

Casket City, FL



About
"My trepidation of things past is not a song with a beginning, middle and end. But an endless symphony playing infinite variations on the same theme. One day of sadness fades into another and the .. more..

Writing

Related Writing

People who liked this story also liked..


Frozen Frozen

A Poem by Pryde Foltz