On the rugged terrain,
He lies down, drenched in blood and pain.
As the bullets rain and ricochet,
Red ichor, from his body, exudate.
Drip, drip, drip... his vision hies,
To faces filled with wrinkles,
Awaiting eyes that twinkle,
To embraces filled with warmth,
The roof below which happiness danced.
Drip, drip, drip...his heart remembers,
All the friends and their banters,
Those closest of all - the confidants,
The days of youthful mischiefs,
Of first love and ensuing grief.
Drip, drip, drip... his soul sobs,
For those beautiful eyes,
For shared euphoric smiles,
For starry nights of bliss,
For those shy and gentle kisses.
Drip, drip, drip...tears blur his eyes,
His every fiber cries,
For he recalls those toothless grins,
Those babbling songs his baby sings.
Memories play on a loop,
Drip, drip, drip,
The flow ending his last hope,
Drip, drip, drip,
And so, he lies in a helpless heap,
Waiting for his eternal sleep.
Drip... drip... drip
Such a precious life,
Drip... drip... dripped away.
(This piece is based on 'onomatopoeia- drip, drip, drip'.)
YOU ARE READING
Jar of Poesy
Poezie"Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words." - Robert Frost 'Jar of Poesy' is a collection of poems churned out in the moments when the emotions and thoughts mingled to create words - words reflecting the percep...
