The place for writers: Upload your writing in minutes, receive peer feedback from other writers, poets, authors, then get your work published out there in the real world. Learn how other writers are doing it.
the saints have built
a good wall
to keep me their prisoner
refreshing me each morning
with tales of paradise
and of how my life
may have been
the sun
has kissed the moon
the stars of heaven
have run away
the saints
are drinking my blood
giving birth to
the days
I havent lived
precious
is my coming death
I shall dance with a smile
upon my grave
and greet each saint
with a kiss
as I fly to meet my soul.
(C)2007.31.7. Lenny Gazbowski
Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...
How liberating!
The first two stanzas are a complete work in themselves, but I also really like the phrase "giving birth to /the days /I haven't lived"
