Spitting blood

Spitting blood

A Poem by Mark D

I was spitting blood
In reality and dream alike
Through the bitter winds of winter
And when flowers opened their buds

Likewise was I empty-handed
When I entered the world unclothed
And I left it barefooted
Caught up in endless fight

What then was all this for?
On reflection I do not know
My place is not reserved
For those who heed a higher law

I never fathered a nation
Nor was I a bringer of peace
I never gave over life and love
To be an instrument of some greater hand

Glory to me was a fashion I could wear
Never did I hide on saying so
In death there were no songs to let me go
No grand gathering of mourners

Deep within life's unsolved mystery
Each of you still lives within my heart
I know I won’t remain in your minds

© 2012 Mark D


My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Featured Review




Reviews

Well, of course you pulled me in with the first stanza, as I cannot resist the image of blood and winter with flowers (my favorite). The second stanza explores the coming and going of life, so pure at the beginning without knowledge, but with knowledge comes the "endless fight." There is no rebirth like the first.
As a commoner, a general person, a life seems so expendable. I get that from the fourth stanza, and when you say "In death there were no songs to let me go, No grand gathering of mourners." The bitterness shows its face at the end line, tying in perfectly with the opening stanza.
"Each of you still lives within my heart
I know I won't remain in your minds"
A strong statement in itself. The juxtaposition of the heart and the mind, carefully chosen words.
The blood signifies, to me, the purging of the soul, the mind with the realization.
For some reason the famous Shakespearean line "To be or not to be, that is the question" comes to mind. Phenomenal work!

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I seriously like your style. It's exceptionally well fitted in the tradition of existential angst.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

We're just passing through this life, aren't we?

But I believe our souls are sedimentary beings; tiny living pieces of everything we've sensed, and everyone we've known stick to us like barnacles.

This poem has now become a lovely little piece of what I am.

Thanks.

t

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

there are folks who come and go, they make poems, fashion them out of clay, and pass them off for something more

and then there are the poets, who breathe the words, who voice the soul

looking forward to reading more of you

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

[send message][befriend] Subscribe
lei
I never fathered a nation
Nor was I a bringer of peace
I never gave over life and love
To be an instrument of some greater hand

... deep verse..

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

I love the way you use words here,subtle but powerfully so. Particularly like verses 3 and 4. Thanks.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

[send message][befriend] Subscribe
..
Quite an intriguing write, time goes on without us. We must set our sails and see what comes. Dreams are wonderful, but reality is much sweeter, and harder to strive for. I love the pondering notions within your intriguing write.

Posted 12 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


4
next Next Page
last Last Page
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

1655 Views
37 Reviews
Rating
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on February 24, 2012
Last Updated on September 6, 2012

Author

Mark D
Mark D

Edinburgh, United Kingdom



About
I am a 30 year old from Edinburgh in Scotland more..

Writing

Related Writing

People who liked this story also liked..


Silent Decade Silent Decade

A Poem by Bubo