Infinite Darkness of the Soul

The ever expanding works of Elizabeth Anne Easter. Poetry and musings of the stark reality of life.

Saturday, March 04, 2006

Poem - Gone

The clock hangs against the
    stark white wall
    the works long broken,
    no ticking is heard.
Tiles as cold as steel in Winter,
    line the long corridors -
    they make a satisfying clicking
    as hard-sole shoes beat down.

Cries, screams, sobs and laughter
    echo throughout.
Forgotten souls lost in time
    and space
             without family
                friends or hope.
No one listens, no one understands.

Medicated and fumbling with words,
    movement and wakefulness.
Drowning in loneliness and barely aware
    of the world beyond the filthy,
    barred windows.
        and falling

Originally written in February 2006

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Blogger Three AM Writer said...

I was led here after clicking your link on the Writers Digest message boards.

Your poem here has a lot of potential. This isn't done. More refinement is needed. There are too many direct metaphors, and I think that really destroys the mysticism that poetry can convey.

And as to people not commenting, a lot of people who visit sites at random rarely leave any evidence that they were there. Furthurmore, when they read content that is as personal as this, they will most likely feel uncomfortable with leaving any comment on it. For example, me writing this is usually very out of my league.

Just give it time.

3:37 PM  
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Anonymous Anonymous said...

Where did you find it? Interesting read » » »

3:08 AM  

We do have some things in common and pretty much like your poems.

Do keep penning!

1:46 AM  

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