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Literature Text
Hearken not to the words
Of the beauteous, ungodly saint,
Or linger like a swimmer
In coagulating paint.
Sharpest nails scrape the night.
Perfect cuticles in your day dreams.
Torn innocence.
Has all been lost?
There are many things that may be found,
Like insects, wormlings
But that sound...
It infiltrates the sodden ground
To penetrate the coffin bound.
The saint sings on,
Drowning out Nirvana.
So beauteous
yet so ungodly.
Tinkling notes can fill my soul,
but won’t touch it
never touches
Have no illusions
- What you cannot attain
Never truly leaves.
Of the beauteous, ungodly saint,
Or linger like a swimmer
In coagulating paint.
Sharpest nails scrape the night.
Perfect cuticles in your day dreams.
Torn innocence.
Has all been lost?
There are many things that may be found,
Like insects, wormlings
But that sound...
It infiltrates the sodden ground
To penetrate the coffin bound.
The saint sings on,
Drowning out Nirvana.
So beauteous
yet so ungodly.
Tinkling notes can fill my soul,
but won’t touch it
never touches
Have no illusions
- What you cannot attain
Never truly leaves.
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© 2013 - 2024 Hayleyishayley
Comments9
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I enjoyed reading this. My favorite part being your references to items and then their details (nails and cuticles for example). It adds a much more thought out poem which, in turn, conjures a whole new level of experience for the reader.
"Torn innocence.
Has all been lost?"
Although there is really nothing wrong with the line itself, I don't think it really fits here. It sounds awkward and strays from the rest of the poem (in my opinion). Of course, this is only my perception and you have full liberty to ignore it.
"Torn innocence.
Has all been lost?"
Although there is really nothing wrong with the line itself, I don't think it really fits here. It sounds awkward and strays from the rest of the poem (in my opinion). Of course, this is only my perception and you have full liberty to ignore it.