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The sageing flesh,
a wrinkled vicedom.
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The sageing flesh,
a wrinkled vicedom.
The veined reverberation
of a life consumed.
On corneas imprinted
with a thousand dreams,
now stage penumbral plays
directed by a sight receding
and a brain enraged.
To fall, as curtains call,
to bow the last,
rendered a sepia image
in a camera obscured,
a line of credits,
fully exhausted,
fully endured.
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Poetry of Healing and Abuse
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| Reviewed by Dawn Mullan |
11/13/2006 |
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| Exactly as life should be. Good work. Thank you, DL Mullan |
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| Reviewed by Marguerite Little Flower |
11/7/2006 |
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| I'm aged but not wrinkled==my life is still alert, my eye-sight better than ever, my brain is far less enraged than younger days, responsibilities are for myself only, I answer only to God and ask from him only for my needs, the young do not have time for the elders, those on whose shoulders they stood. My moneys, income, is not fully exhausted tho many wish to take it away from me, endure, yes, I must endure pain but I find much peace and joy coming to me from above. There is no abuse in my life. I live under the protection of my angel, Jesus Christ and His mother, Mary, my eternal mother. Thank You Marguerite |
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