....


Why is this Me?

A westward winds crawls over my back,
a shadow of me gnaws through the cracks,
more so of me than just what I lack,
this body of mine sprawled on the tracks.

These wisperd thoughts begin slowing,
when I sleep, grass fields stop growing, to weep,
to my song I sing for you, for me,
let it seep, though desperatly.



Poetry by NamFoNos
Read 539 times
Written on 2005-08-02 at 07:26

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


epohonci
why haven't you posted some more??

another masterpiece!

great morning reads to get me off to a great day :D

~me
2005-08-06


F.i.in.e Moods The PoetBay support member heart!
im thinking despair and wishes for death when i read this... its colorful in imagery but i have to admit that the last stanza - the last 3 lines to be more precise - kind of got a bit muddy in its meaning for me... aside from that, the general mood of your poem i think is clear to the reader... i enjoyed reading... thanks for sharing :)

later...xx
2005-08-02


chasingtheday The PoetBay support member heart!
westwood wind rather than winds - wispered - whispered - a better piece than the dog crap one, i pick up death lament here.
2005-08-02