The Avenue ... Written for Bukowski poetry contest

resplendent velvet petals
nourished in sweet morning's dew

born
refusenew.

stems ripped by vacillating night galesin the wake of
meritorious regales
entwined on familial vines of salubrious
redolent roses.

splintered remnants
drift

floating a river flooded by petrified drops
of liquefied terrors
pitiably shared as rapid waves of insurgence
rape naïve brilliance

of blossoming daybreaks

of glistening planes
of splendid prospects

displaced by bleakness from odious relationships
(slick weeds to choke breath divine)

crippling despair
when strength flees

cowardice revealed to bully self-esteem

pinned
a limp spine before whipping rain
attacking chipped bricks comprising a skeletal frame
twisted
defeated
alone
seated at a broken window pane

a moonless sky sprouting
sporadic trembling dread
sprawled across a three-legged chair
with no solid support to spare

stares vacant

introduced
comatose strains

killing rectitude
humility
meekness of heart unleashing waterfalls of love
which humanness imparts.

instead lost

tossed to strand upon maggot infested heaps

deserted

for buzzards to collectively reap
toothsome rewards of decaying morsels

torn from nations
of corpses

dead on avenues of once flourishing
mortals.

Write a poem for contest flowers not dead - Dana st mary
I was born to hustle roses down the avenues of the dead."  Bukowsi

This has to be up there with the greatest sentence ever spoke.

No whiners Poem based upon the Book of Lamentations © 5 hours ago, Lucretia Mccloud   sad poems • society poems • pain poems • teen poems