Tears Of The Painted Moon

This piece is about how man can never surrender his heart to the darkness no matter what kind of cruelty he is up against.

In the late hours of winter

the night sings its weeping song

to the angels who gather round my tomb.

My heart cannot escape the carnage

brought about by the lashing whips

that burned my tarried flesh

each time I chose to take a step

to further my own divinity.

Searching above the trees for a morsel

to eat is the lonesome hawk who engages

in his own decree, scanning the grounds

with his sharp eyes for prey that lurk

inside the suffering vines and on the ground

surrounded by Gothic trees, and search for their own

morsel to eat in the frigid arms of another disease.

I try as I may to embark on my own journey

that is filled with nothing but concrete walls

that crack my skull whenever I try to march

into the softness of the painted moon

that glows high above the earth.

My medley does not serve anyone other than

the hallows that burn inside my veins.

These drifters curse my sculpted mind

with sharp voices that cut into my soul

and drink up my spirit to evade me

from calling out to the sea

in the hopes of my having some form of company

during my deathly hours of the cruel winter.

Author's Note

What do you think of the imagery?

Reviews

[Alicante lullaby]

great...one good english writer who is an optimist...i'm glad to have stumbled to your page.

[J.S. Pua]

nice..
great imagery..
a strong piece..

[Fabian G. Franklin]

Wonderful imagery, brutal and torturous cruelties being fought back by sheer willpower...I think I have been there.

[Spit_and_Prayers]

This piece has an enticing power that pulls the reader through the lines like the current of an icy river. I enjoy the classic style to your writing, a hint of a hidden but epic struggle between the good and evil inside all people.

[TL Boehm]

I have heard some say that when we decide to stand for "the light" we put a giant bullseye on our foreheads....the lure of the moon - of the soft path is insatiable no matter who you are...the right path narrow. I didn't feel you were "preaching" about right and wrong as much as I found the poem indicative of an intimate, soulful hearts cry...
yes, beautiful, poignant lamentation. Well done.

[Nicole]

Imagery was mindblowing. I agree.
I liked this. It in some odd way brought me up.
I was feelin' down you see and now I feel better..hah.
Thanks for writing. :)

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

The deep impact of your words sends chills down my spine... I feel as if I am in the mind of madman moving in for the kill... the imagery was mind blowing.