Poetry / Twas made of lead

Twas made of lead and other things.
The kind that shine as hornets wings.
The glare and sheen of wither’d fire—traits to which we all aspire.

If ever thus, we cried alone.
Guttural, our stuttered moans
Piercing gasps and quickened stares.
Beneath the covers—wait, beware.
I give to hope, and take your cares.

“But we are wrong, for we summoned him!”
I could not laugh, for he would win.
The mark of teeth and worn sly grin.
Of this I fear will do us in.
The air, it seemed, was growing thin.

I am much more: a sum of parts.
The written word or performed arts.
Beg and plead and ask politely, “Mother, may I?”
Daily. Nightly.
Denial and the gavel strikes me.
Inferno burning—all too brightly.

It starts to hum.
A lurch, a throb.
We frantically adjust the knobs.
To quell, to hide, nay tame this beast.
Oh someone, quickly, serve the treats!
That’s all they want: your offered feast.

So must it end, as all things do.
Return to ash and smoke and hue.
As sabers clash, our childhood games.
The cycle never cares your name.
And to that end, begin anew.
It is for me, but what of you?

So much better never knowing . . .
I have returned and you’re now going.

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Reviews

March 11, 2008

f0rgiv3_f0rg3t

No. of Reviews	Overall Quality	Comment Followup
34	66.7% (6 votes)	100.0%

personal info reviewer stats

Age	Gender	Location	Last Login
16	F	Lubbock, TX	March 17

f0rgiv3_f0rg3t reviewed Version 1 - Read 100% of the Item

i think that this is ok it would be better if you condensed it a little more than it is now. i dont really get what you are trying to get across in this poem but overall it is one of the better poems that i have read today.