Dark Edge of Inspiration
by Dena L. Moore
Thursday, June 14, 2007
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I canít tame the demons ravaging your soul,
No, and I canít unchain the dungeon door
If youíve stolen and swallowed the key -
Youíve chosen to wallow and wade,
Locked up so tight in your dank misery.
I can offer a warm, calm hand through the iron bars,
I can smooth your hair back from your eyes
And smile, oh such a dazzling, loving smile -
Itís such a small, comforting thing,
Welcome solace, if only for a little while.
If I thought a sacrifice would suffice,
Iíd dig up the bones and light the fire,
Iíd trade in my name without shame -
But a token I am not, nor a symbol, or a clue,
Iím undeniably spicy real and I expect quite the same.
I watch from afar while you tear your world in two,
I stand in the line of fire, knowing the consequences,
Watching you dig your grave a teaspoon at a time,
Helpless to help, unable to walk away,
Inspiration, IĎve found, can become a crimeÖ
Dena L Moore
June 14, 2007
Dena's Poetry: Poetry of Love, Loss, & the Occult
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|Reviewed by Duke LaRance
|I'm very impressed with the cadence of your five line style. This is most well written.|
|Reviewed by E. Richardson
|intriguing write here...when does inspiration become obsession? Does that which inspires also destroys? You pose interesting questions in this well composed piece.|