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by Ben Pickard Aug 5, 2019
Today I'm sheathed in hot regret and pain
As not an end will meet the way it should
The mirror births an image of disdain
And shimmers where a solid man had stood
~ I crack the glass and snap the mast
That's made from rotting wood ~
How can I pray or even start to think
That when at last I die, the clouds will part?
Has heaven really blinked a timely blink
And missed my life but saw the virgin start?
~ I tear the page from whence I prayed
And take my place apart ~ I scandalised the righteous blood that flowed -
For then my heart would pump a vintage rouge -
So where it ran with verse, it runs with prose
And now resembles sewage, gunk and ooze
~ I break the skin, and thus begin
A purge of what I grew ~
Ben Pickard 2019
by Cast Out Angel
Absolutely amazing. I had to read it again and again.
by Ben Pickard
Thanks so much, TA
by Em (marmite)
Why do you always, always do this... It's like you read my mind and exactly what I'm thinking though you write it better.. Much better
Take care and congrats on front page x
I guess, truthfully, many of us feel a little like this sometimes, Em. Although my poems often tend towards the miserable, it's for that reason maybe that people can relate. Not sure.
Take care and thank you
by Milly Hayward
Another fine poem oozing with imagery and emotion. Very dynamic I could imagine this being read out on stage with those amazing acoustics echoing the vigour of this piece. Milly x
by Kitty Cat Lady
Blimey Ben! This is so vivid and raw and bitter and asks a million existential questions. Hats off to you sir! Happily nominated :-) x
Thanks so much Kitty and thank you for the nomination
by Mr. Darcy
by CJ Maleney