Time stopped February twentieth.
Tests taken, processed—
seven warning signs
predicted their results.
Let it rip through disease
like a knife in tender flesh:
morphine, radiation,
burn it out, take it down.
“Three months, maximum”—
one day, one week, one month,
two. April showers pounded down
intravenous rain clouds.
Calendars flipped to August;
Their glossy pages felt like
his thinning skin after all
the needles finished their job.
December tenth hit
like a frozen winter wall.
A last breath sighed out
of his tissue paper lips
Burning frost hung so low
engraved in icy memory:
trade Christmas for a funeral,
December ’93.
~written for an assignment in a writing workshop, again.
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,857 Reviews
it was a bit choppy, but i really do love your poetry. it's very descriptive but still holds purpose and point.
wow. and the last stanza - great. i loved the rhythm and rhyme.
Oh god, that is so sad. But beautiful.
“Three months, maximum”—
one day, one week, one month,
two. April showers pounded down
intravenous rain clouds.
I loved that stanza. "intravenous rain clouds"? Brilliant. It really captures... hopspitals. And other things.
Burning frost hung so low
engraved in icy memory:
trade Christmas for a funeral,
December ’93.
That too. Sorry, I have no critique. This is amazing.
Kind of choppy in some places, and a little lame but I still liked it.
Let it rip through disease
like a knife in tender flesh:
morphine, radiation,
burn it out, take it down.
That's really beautiful..sounds like the bridge in a FFAF song.
And I love the Cobain quote in your profile...well, he said something similar to that.