Doves, Pens, and Desperation

An ink soaked dove flutters without sound

In an existence of black and white print
Yet red flows from his chest as he cries out in silence
So loud a sound but remains unheard; unspoken
Desperate pleas and calls ring throughout blank pages
But deaf are minds attuned to nothing and so
Desolation hangs thickly and oozes deep within the bird
A last attempted cry resounds in unrelenting exhaustion
But in vain silence, as again.. unheard                        

Reviews

[*Evelen*]

I like this poem a lot. The images that run through my head are amazing. Thank you for sharing and well done.