by Sam Roberts
Engraved into her flesh
A mark of pressure
A declaration to her will
Just softly skimming over her vain
A perfect circle.
As she soon performs the effortless task,
of softly skimming her hand over the top
of the wine glass.
She drinks her toast
To her grave.
Posted on 03/16/2003
Copyright © 2023 Sam Roberts
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Graeme Fielden on 03/16/03 at 11:43 PM|
the first stanza bore marks of Dylan (Thomas) for me...nice work :)
|Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 03/18/03 at 09:03 PM|
Powerful enough to blow the tusks off an elephant at 1000 yards. Well done!
|Posted by Joan Serratelli on 04/18/06 at 12:17 PM|
Wow! Very powerful and bleak. Great job!
|Posted by Angela Stevens on 02/14/14 at 03:16 PM|
Like a slap. Definitely powerful!
|Posted by Johnny Crimson on 03/03/14 at 04:20 PM|
"a mark of pressure" so much lies in that line. This speaks in whispers. Great job.