Down decaying hallways
of flaking paint and dust
still smelling of antiseptic
bleach isopropyl alcohol
latex gloves death
Thrust into a walled box
whose bricked window
once opened upon
a secret garden, now
red-stained concrete
Hearing booted footsteps
of however many
three or five or seven
carrying degradation
cruelty fear violence pain
He hears her voice
an arrow shot of light
lose yourself for a time
in the gray line of my words
you will not die
This poem is submitted for the One Shot Sunday photo prompt hosted by One Shot Poetry. To see other poems, please visit the site.
Photograph: The Arrow Shot by Claudio Mufarrege. Used with permission.
16 comments:
So sad, death... I took the other route... love.
Thanks for the visit and nice comment.
Excellent interpretation of photo. I have been reading "Night" by Elie Wiesel the past few days and your words sychorinized with the images that had been rolling around my mind.
Powerful imagery Glynn.
"lose yourself for a time
in the gray line of my words
you will not die"
Wow!
Night (Wiesel) comes to mind, as does paranoia or someone dealing with PTSD. Very powerful poem, Glynn.
take me to Your garden, Lord
down the golden path of your word
into the light of your Glory
love the last stanza Glynn...lost in the words...thank you...blessings...bkm
Out of the darkness and into the light...a poem that almost gives a meaning to suffering and fear, very difficult to both name them so clearly and resolve them as well, but your strong conclusion works, I think. Well done.
The true asylum of pain. Excellent darkness here Glynn, you thoroughly caught the moment!
Your last stanza is especially striking. I keep returning to "in the gray line of my words".
oh glynn this gave me shivers - such a lot of depth in your poem - loved esp. ..lose yourself for a time in the gray line of my words..
This reminds me of the Bob Dylan lyric that goes "it is not poison, you will not die."
loved your opening two lines...just fitted so well...great write my friend...cheers pete
I heard the cruelty and pain in the back round and it reminded me of death camps and hiding from that threat. Death can certainly be the ultimate threat or release
Nicely penned my friend
oooh darker yet..holocaust, death camps, Argentine killing centers. Our minds went many directions today and all with such force and fine poetry. The songs of love, of death, of freedom. What a prompt! Thank you for this fine precise piece. Well written! Gay @beachanny
I appreciate what you found, though it is a rather eerie image, sir.
I actually woke up to the prompt through reading your post. *laugh* I rarely skip your posts unless there are a couple hundred articles in my in-box due to the slowing of poor health or distractions.
Thank you, also, for letting me know that the words I wrote translated so well into your mind.
Truly, playing up on this sense of being trapped, like a prison or an asylum, I felt, throughout the early progression of the piece...encroaching danger, encroaching horror, eerie to the final stanza but then...this melancholy sort of hope, that never breaks the flow nor the voice of the work. I like it. It is a horror of a thing throughout much of the progression, but I like it, for it progresses and expresses very nicely.
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