Thursday, August 2, 2007

The Iron Gate


I've written stories of fiction integrating the metaphysical, sagacious wisdom I've acquired in my 30+ years of study. I lean towards the unusual and enjoy fantasy, allegory and abstract prose rather than the more monotonous literary tale of predictable outcomes following straight story lines. As a result of my overzealous scrawls, I've managed to pen several poems. I am an eclectic poet not using the same formats for my numerous verses. I write as inspiration dictates, not really knowing how it will all turn out. I've climbed the scripted mountain and sometimes slid back down. More often than not, I've managed to struggle to the peak of the great bluff. When achieved, I relish the beautiful view and draw in a deep breath of braggadocio. I'm humbled by the scene and thus am inspired to climb once again the precipice of composition. Here is an excerpt of one of my aforementioned poems:

The iron gate

Who knew that a soul could choose

That a cemetery had color

Within its dreary gates

Inviting the mortal to visit the soul

The morning requests your presence

There is no backing out

To inhale the air so dense

Acknowledges your attendance


The rusty fence overlooks the nameless

The demons entrenched within

Suffering in mute silence

Seeking the company of souls




3 comments:

ben said...

I would love to read the rest of this poem!

PMR said...

Maybe, eventually I will post it. I wouldn't want someone to steal such great prose now would I? ;)

ben said...

I promise I won't.