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Icarus
Contributed by
EternitysLyre
on
Saturday, 8th January 2005 @ 04:11:29 AM in AEST
Topic:
Suicide
|
“Glass doors jingled merrily to signify depart;
As every man can understand, the end is but a start.
Where steps adrift embark upon the echoes of the heart
Dreams can be a great panache—
—But death is truly art.”
From his seat behind the counter, the clerk could not decipher;
His eyes stared out in wonder as the swinging doors swung shut.
His customer a well known-friend, his purchase quite peculiar,
And no one ere had used it short—so why’d he get it cut?
The gentle waft of coffee brings its bittersweet entice,
But taste was not in order as the teacher paced in thought;
His brightest child was listless and no reasons could suffice:
Why would the sixteen year-old just mumble he forgot?
Two eyelids sharply narrow as indifference turns to ire;
A furrowed brow of wonder pulled itself along the street.
Contemplating mystery, the handyman for hire
Walked his dog on anyway, assuming it a leash.
Despite his eerie silence his two eyes were narrow slits,
For in his house so suddenly not all was as it should;
He propped his legs upon it every evening, floor lamps lit:
The old man’s stool had disappeared from where it always stood.
He’d seemed in thought this evening when he made his daily trudge,
The mother’s thoughts entangled in what reasons there could be;
His skin still tender from her strikes, yet he never held a grudge,
“So why would he go straight upstairs and without a look at me?”
His smile sprained in seven spots and easy gait replaced
An exuberant sixteen year-old wrote all he wished to say
His writing neat as ever and so delicately spaced
A laugh became a whisper as he kicked the stool away.
(And no one tells you why or how he tries to kill himself;
No one ever wrote the book on how to tie the loop;
There’s not a book that educates such matters on the shelf;
His knot was just above the spot he’d asked to cut the hoop)
— —— —
—He nearly heard the seraphs sing,
The world’s most content myope;
He dreamed to fly but burnt his wings,
From hell to heaven he eloped.
Yet back again his fate did bring
This broken record’s final hope
Such a quick and easy thing...
—Oh why, Oh why, did he cut the rope?
Copyright ©
EternitysLyre
... [
2005-01-08 04:11:29]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Icarus
(User Rating: 1 )
by TheEarlyNovember on
Saturday, 8th January 2005 @ 04:17:32 AM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
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| Wow I must say this is quite an amazing write. |
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Re: Icarus
(User Rating: 1 )
by Bohemian_with_a_pen on
Saturday, 8th January 2005 @ 05:52:27 AM AEST
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a Message)
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wow, this is amazing.. well done... one of the best ive ever read on this site!!!!
Ninja/Caiti |
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Re: Icarus
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Saturday, 8th January 2005 @ 07:13:30 AM AEST
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a Message)
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This was not my favorite of yours, and I didn't like the thought/thought rhyme, but I stopped here becuase I wanted to mention that it prompted me to read back some of your otheres, and I am never less than thrilled by some of your work. You handle your style with such grace and ease that the words flow smooth and rich with meaning.
Thanks for the pleasure/ |
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Re: Icarus
(User Rating: 1 )
by EternitysLyre on
Saturday, 8th January 2005 @ 07:30:04 AM AEST
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a Message)
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just mumble he forgot*
*ergh* |
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Re: Icarus
(User Rating: 1 )
by sweetdreamsaremadeofthis on
Sunday, 23rd January 2005 @ 10:48:32 AM AEST
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a Message)
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| this was amazing! O_O I really liked this poem though I don't fully understand it...it was really cool! |
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Re: Icarus
(User Rating: 1 )
by kayald on
Sunday, 24th April 2005 @ 09:44:58 PM AEST
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a Message)
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| This piece you wrote made me ashamed of the old and ridiculous poems I have posted on this site. I read a comment you made on someone else's poem that made me think you were somewhat unreasonably harsh; however, after reading this poetic work of art (and yes, this is the only one I've read mostly because I'm lazy and I found the title intriguing), I have come to the conclusion that you can be harsh on others because you are talented. Thanks for a nice, for lack of a better word, poem. |
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