In a Station of the Metro by Ezra Pound
“The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.”
My Response
A tree alone; carved with initials of love;
A warrior wounded, still stands.
Tag: my
my existence offending
My existence offending,
With every breath of smoke
Which is taken alone,
I march forward.
Fire erupts from the candles at the wake.
A man lies waste deep
Not ready to be interred.
Yet the birds still sing
O’er a body cut down
By Smith & Wesson’s
Newest thresher.
A miracle occurred today,
He has proven something,
If only for himself.
He has become an Ozymandias,
A king of the dead to be forgotten.
The works of his dying hands
Mattered only to his fleeing soul.
The triumphs of loves won
And the woes of years of defeat,
Are but memories forgotten.
A poem for Georgia the cockatiel
Days like today,
Remind me of the past.
Warmth of the cold
A love I hope will last.
You fear I will not answer,
Upon your fearful call.
I would simply die,
If I ever hurt you at all.
I would end others’ to protect yours.
I would die without you.
I fear for you as I fear for myself.
Daily, I fight to get over you.
You are stuck like a wrench in a cog.
My mind will always come back to you.
The fact that you called,
Shows me you feel the same.
Dcid Corvid 