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Topic: measuring time by the scars on my soul
by Jason WardellTake a boy, a journal, the two
depleted, a bottle of vile elixir
half-past defeated, the boy fights
the journal for the last few drops
Suppose the boy, parched
convinces a drop.
He'd go, determined
and sleep for his days.
Suppose the journal, dry
as well caught even a taste
months of drought ceased
pages covered in life.
Take the bottle, coax
two drops for two
will they miss the mouth,
burn into the pages?
When we both know the elixir
we both know the first:
lungs incapacitated in awe,
ears always hearing the same song. 02/18/2005 Author's Note: Topic from Aaron Amrich in the newest installment of the topic thread. Be brutal.
Posted on 02/18/2005
Copyright © 2025 Jason Wardell
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Nadia Gilbert Kent on 02/20/05 at 06:40 PM I like it, but I always like your work. And you should write back soon. |
| Posted by Nadia Gilbert Kent on 02/20/05 at 06:43 PM It would make a great slam poem if you made it longer, but I don't think you do that sort of thing. I wish I had something else to say, because none of this is what you asked for. Maybe that's a good thing. |
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