Friday, 7 December 2012

The Darkest Hour



Silence the nightingale, its song annoys.
Lock away the peacock, its frivolity offends
Strip the leaves from the trees, their rustle silenced forever.
Discard all the fruit, the taste is bitter to me.
Close all the buds, Send the bees home.

Let the rivers run dry, they no longer have purpose.
The mountains are but obstacles. Fell the proud oak
Take down the signs, for all paths lead nowhere
Disperse the passing cloud, the sky enthralls me not.
It is but empty space, mirroring my heart.

Turn off the breeze, it chills my bones
Dismiss the memory of rain on upturned face.
Dismantle the pyramids, they bore me now.
Burn all the books and scorn the poet.
Turn off the music and scold the laughing child.

Discharge the sun, its warmth cannot penetrate my soul
Do not offer comfort or try to understand.
There is no salve for this despair
And seek not my company.
The world is dead to me.

1 comment:

  1. Kevin, I'm not into poetry but this one has really got to me. So black, so dark, it reads like it was written by someone very depressed.

    Ron

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