by Cela M Shearer
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Rated "PG13" by the Author.
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Sleep in deepest slumber sleep,
Where willows weep, and dark descends,
This is a season with no end,
For hollow is each day that dawns,
To wish for dreams that cannot be,
And hope for love we will not see,
Each ending to unfinished hours,
So quickly does the night portend,
Upon exactly life will end,
It's servants of relentless woe,
For now, there is no place to go,
Except inside cold, barren ground,
Where whispers wail without a sound,
As strife escapes, eternal peace,
At last, alone, each soul shall be,
Asleep, in deepest slumber...sleep.
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|Reviewed by jude forese
|"asleep, in deepest slumber...sleep"
it appears there is then the potential to awaken ...
|Reviewed by Felix Perry
|You seem to excel at the darker writes but I like the way the ending sort of makes people believe that even in death perhaps there is comfort.
|Reviewed by D. Vaineo
|Cela, "Where whispers wail without a sound,"
Excellent writing,as I can feel every word!
|Reviewed by Amber Moonstone
|Very deeply moving poetry, Cela. Sometimes we need the darkness in order to appreciate the lightness.
Much peace, love and light,
|Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
|Dark and moody, my kind of stuff for the most part, although lately I am trying to see some light.
You painted life as 'tis is and death as the final dirge . . .