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Quieter

 

I remember when I was young.

I remember the sad strangeness that could not forge

The words wretched wonder would wrench

The memory is stainless, sturdy, simple, a symbol

 

Beholden that it is now buried

but I needed that melancholy

And the knowledge I knew, or thought I knew

Fleshy words without force

 

Buried in a cemetery in ceremony

The dirt descended on that mahogany

And words would not leave it

Thought would not touch it

 

There will always be a crescendo

in my head that I cannot hear

Frothing in the foams of a fantasy

as a tide striking the shore

Tinkling trails of thought

 

quieterpoempoetry

◄ Decay

Polishing a Turd ►

Comments

Jamie Barton

Thu 21st Feb 2013 01:49

I see your point Andy and I will experiment with it, thanks.

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Andy N

Wed 20th Feb 2013 08:09

really enjoyed this, Jamie although i am wondering whether you need both the second and third stanza as removing one may sharpen it's impact even more but good stuff either way, m8

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