Aeroembolism

[~K]

I was going down
& she was there
kicking
& screaming in silence.
The ground was coming up
to swallow us
& we were ready to
fertilize the soil and
put an end to weakness.


* * *


"A light!"
she exclaimed.
"There, at the tunnels end."

And who was I
to deny the
moth her flame,

and how could I
obstruct the path
when all things spin to
their eventual conclusion.

[joel]

I don't know if these are two unconnected separate poems, two stanzas to one poem, two tomes in a series or what. I like the first piece/bit very much. There's an urgency to it and a very clear-and-yet-ambiguous feel.

To be honest, the second part is well done I think...and I love the moth (what poet doesn't?), but the light at the end of the tunnel and the moth imagry are sadly claimed by The Cliche. I might suggest twisting them somehow to make them fresh--unless maybe what you're going for is the fact that they're common (ok...in honesty I think hackneyed) terms.

None of it bad at all.

Thanks, Joel

[hester_prynne]

The beauty of resignation, in the droll of maturity.
I know this well. I relate.
We grow to love the bittersweet realities, with a little kicking and screaming, indeed.
Nice one `K`...

H

[Totenkopf]

not such a bad poet.................some prefer whiskey to vodka, tho...........................

[~K]

thank you

poison
is
my poison


I mist
between the lines
I cross
my heart & hope
still
after all
this time

I am

still
groping for
the exit
still waiting
for our eyes
to catch
a glimpse
of what
this is
about

love

or what
we claim
as our right

to dive
into
a sky filled
kamikaze