The sap ran down its green branches
And her blood spreading upon her sun-setting body
Open and defenceless
Curling and mingling in the hot bath I'd run
To travel into the red smoke and mists and her spirit loosening -
Sinking, I knew she was leaving in peace
Now at long last her spirit was free
THE PAST:
I robbed her of her spirituality
I probed her prognosis a lobotomy
To make her normal like me
(An oxymoron no greater I ever did see)
I raped her and freed her
And freed her and raped her
Until onlookers knew whether I was a
Saint or Sinner or
A Seer or a Spinner
Of lies upon lies
Spread with warped foresight
Onto the darkening light
And the trembling fingers
and losing of sight
As she breathes her final breath
No tears I meet
I've even denied her her tears
For in tears I saw danger so
Like as if a fire I killed with foam
And spread her face in monochrome
Her life force was vanishing quick time
After she met me
In those darkened dens of iniquity
Where the dying men go
And the odd woman stutters then flows
She would have been gone long ago
But for my meddling of matters I not know
It would have been the natural way
Mother Nature would take her home
And find a place for her
She could rest and roam
I prevented the natural course
For twenty years and some
I realise my errors
In all the terrors
I made her drink and swallow
AJ Buttle September 2010
2 comments:
Riveting! Blood Chilling. Makes one greedy for the next line,imagination rushing wildly onward, eager to read more. Excellent visualization. Move over T.S. Elliot. Jonathan Buttle has carved his own niche.
Angela Crowell
Something to live up to (TS Eliot - how he could write as he did, and remain sane working a normal job, certainly brings about the old brain cells pondering). If I can write fro the heart and write with a degree of talent, and not let the muse leave me, I will be fairly happy. I should really be saving my best poems and submit them to publishers of anthologies of contemporary poetry.
Thank you so much for the encouragement
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