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For poets who want unrestricted constructive criticism. This is NOT a vanity workshop. If you do not want your poem seriously critiqued, do not post here. Constructive criticism only. PLEASE Only Post One Poem a Day!!!
11/10/2016 8:54:01 AM
Terry Robinson Posts: 49
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The accursed are brave in this place,
where fear cannot arrest them.
As for me, I stand exposed
to the withering darkness that beats me down.
In these darkened hollows
prayers to God are still offered
within the diocese of this battered mind.
And stripped of varnish, my welt-ridden body
struggles to barricade against the constant
thrashes thrown up by the dark.
Yet, as a phalanx of illumination
makes its charge toward the dark,
the time has come to push back the night
by the lighted coals of the Seraphim.
And my lips are left to mouth the sounds
of coloured hues, as each breath is forced
from my lungs, and my voice finds the tolerant
tones of dawns luminescence .
Once more I have found my eyes.
And my mouth has gained its purpose,
to scream a challenge at the darkness
and be rid of this souless carcass.
And force out the few, who thrive
in the valley of my dark-day soul. edited by trobbo44 on 11/13/2016 edited by trobbo44 on 11/13/2016 edited by trobbo44 on 11/13/2016
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