by Colm   Apr 13, 2015

I went to the station where the rain was
pouring, turbulent, seven years old -
stripping the luminosity from its wallpaper
graffiti - and the grey smog of train engines
was frigid, monsterous, cold -

I hate you and how you cannot feel
the cold. Or smell the salt waves and light up
cigarettes and smoke like Daisy Buchanan.
Instead you fall - a black spotted leaf under October's
breath, giving in to the red whisper of our death.


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Latest Comments

  • 7 years ago

    by Em


  • 7 years ago

    by ghosts in bloom

    This is beautiful.

  • 8 years ago

    by Maple Tree

    Judging Comment

    Two stanzas that have captivated me ever since they were nominated.

    Colm has done a brilliant and amazing piece this week. Each stanza is packed with very powerful visuals and his word usage is just beautiful.

    Its very cryptic to me, which is what I love most... the first stanza allows me to visualize a boy standing alone in a very cold and wintry train station, being left behind perhaps.. as the second stanza has left me feeling.

    The title says it all.. feeling like mush...
    wonderful poem here!!!

  • 8 years ago

    by GB

    Weekly contest April 20th
    Judging comment:

    Great read from start to finish, It's very distinguished how the writer started his writing by narrating in specific and descriptive words, then shifted very smoothly into a blaming direct speech. A balanced tone through out the lines and very original end as well to imagine the whisper of death stained red. The neat structure was also a beautiful feature to highlight.

  • 8 years ago

    by GB

    Congratulations, very interesting.

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