Friday 25 February 2011

Love, I can feel your barb

Love, I can feel your barb,
and yet as I dare purge it,
its spurs bite deeper within,
the pain sears;
the feathers mock, their colours
rasp, grate, jangle,
as your poison creeps
into the blood;
the steel shaft
- catching the moonrays -
shines coldly even as
the stricken body thrashes;

and then the pain dulls,
the soul is deadened to pain,
now but a faint throb;
but the heart tormented
raves, screams, wails,
revolts;

but silenced, slain,
at last surrenders.

2 comments:

Moineau En France said...

so well written, raamesh, with your sense of the classical. intense, this love barb! xoxoxoxo

Ozymandias said...

Thank you so much, Laura!

Bookmarking

Bookmark and Share