The Poet's Cruel Device

Ice crystals leaching out,
Frost spreading silently,
Granite sparkles with diamonds,
Memorialize loss of life.

Words were a gift,
When granted cherished,
Yearning for a kind word,
Celebrating when received.

Words painted beauty,
Canvas immeasurable,
Dazzling watercolor landscape,
Soft flowers never fully open.

Words offered hope,
Lifeline from the ship,
Drifting upon oil clad waters,
Made too slippery to grasp and hold.

Words sharpened and honed,
Weapons of a swords master,
Cutting clean through torso,
Exposed heart slurping free.

Words pounded blunt,
Mace and anvil meant to crush,
Wielded overhead and launched,
A single heart crushed to pulp.

Words beautifully chiseled,
Boastful testament overwritten,
Dedicated ever elsewhere,
Though scrawled upon her headstone.

Words beyond grasp,
Laid a wasteland beyond the pen,
To a heart too eager to believe,
Now, too still offer care.

Write on master poet,
Seduce with sonnets,
Sing stories strung in sweet lies,
Craft your art sweetly for your lover’s eyes.

Silence shrouds this sacred space,
Icy tendrils constrict,
A perfect lattice work to cage,
Pulp that once lived, but beats no more.

Sign your name wordsmith,
Beneath her years of life,
This granite monument ever stands,
Frost covered sentry against your device.

Reviews

[humbleServant]

Wow! very intense! and as ever beautifully crafted!!

[writ rajat]

i did not know that nice to read