The Sound of Heaven and The Number Seven

by Tara-Kay   Jun 5, 2018


White feathers, whisky and the sound of heaven,
Bluebirds, silk and cheap perfume.
Burnt out candles, wilted roses and an empty room,
Shattered glass, a ticking bomb and the number seven,

Crisp white sheets and crimson droplets,
Broken floorboards and flickering flames,
The willow tree where we carved our names,
and hanging from a branch, a silver locket

A crumpled photograph and lock of hair,
teddy bears and unwritten dreams,
A hospital room and echoing screams,
flowers at a grave and the lord’s prayer

Shallow breathing, sunlight and sirens
a man on his knees in front of his wife,
and the gun in his hand as he takes his own life
a single teardrop, black feathers and silence.

© Tara-Kay Powney 5th June 2018

8


Did You Like This Poem?

Latest Comments

  • 6 months ago

    by Kelz45

    Congrats! Amazing work and a well deserved win :)

  • 6 months ago

    by - Mr. Darcy

    Congratulations

  • 6 months ago

    by Mark

    Congrats on this win!

  • 6 months ago

    by Kitty Cat Lady

    Brilliant imagery Tara-Kay with a great rhyming scheme and a haunting theme. Fab! :-) x
    =^.^=

  • 6 months ago

    by Em (marmite)

    Honestly I can only shadow what Ben has said here and if he hadn't have nominated the piece I certainly would have.

People Who Liked This Also Liked