He was tangled in weed, tangled in weed

Distanced by her lip-gloss smile

Stranded, marooned, curtailed, ejected

He wandered the earth looking for solace

For a rolled pillow on which he may lay his head

Not a soft, rich bosom, nor a lapful of gold

A regular soldier’s palette bed made of straw

A welcome word, a familiar smile, a kind gesture

Not even a knot of grass woven by careworn hands


When sense and reason mend he saw through the amber

He saw the drunken Lord which had made him smile

Pavement stones wet, not wet with sweat, or blood or tears

What waste of time? what futility? what hands he’d held? 

What moments lost? what frailty? what arms so cold?

He brushed a woman’s arm, although she had not minded

Not blinded, had been kind in blue, not cold of feeling

Feelings true, feelings that once grew and slew dragons

Marie you hurt no one but yourself & ole dismembered me






About edenbray

I'm a writer ... I write .. . I’m not sure why I ever stopped, was it 9/11? .. . edenbray is born ugly, wet and covered in blood, mucous and bodily functions ~ the effluence of my short life .. . I am a Writer and Artist since 1966 - I'm an avid Blogger ~ I write lots of poems, written essays, articles, reviews, opinion + comment .. . I have had many poems selected for Anthologies of verse and recently have published many of my poems in 24+ themed booklets ... please ask for details - join the shebang by leaving me a marker with a 'like' or a comment for my ego and encouragement and thanks for listening - I really value your interest ~ edenbray
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