Bridge Street

Cherry

By poetjude

Sat, 23 Jan 2016
  • 1504 reads
2 comments
 

It’s not like the movies, more like the gospel.

Malnourished hearts fed a strange kind of food.

Words are a scalpel, a scar from the past.

I watch from the ceiling scraping off skin with the rough edge of loathing

understand  that man reborn and love’s unchanging.

 

A ghost from your future beats a prison tattoo

atheists teach saints about God.

Like subtleties of canvas in the Rothko chapel

or poverty of deserts, there’s emptiness here.

It is so complete. I am happier than I have ever been.

This small town nothingness, I share a little space

Something moves and make room

the vastness inside me is free.

 

He slips between words with absence of dogma, a wordless creed.

The God of his emptiness fills me with joy.

 

Certificate U
Poem
3 Viva Pathways
Spiritual

Comments

Submitted by london_calling79 on

There's a wonderful depth and weight to your lines. I wonder if it would be punchier if you were to remove some verbs and prepositions such as 'are, which, where' etc. May shorten the lines without impacting on the meaning - making it starker. Either that or ignore me talking rubbish as it's a great read!

 

Submitted by poetjude on

Thanks for the crit London. I have stripped it down a bit and I think you were right. It flows better. Thanks so much. Jude