Catharsis

Ardeth Sorrel

Description

"Catharsis" highlights thirteen deeply moving poems featuring themes which everyone can relate to, such as loss, love, fear and doubt.

Sujets

• Loss
• Sorrel
• Fear
• DouBt
• Poetry
• POEMS
• Love
• Catharsis

Informations

• Publié par: Publiseer
• Date de parution: 28 avril 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 5
• EAN13: 9788828316817
• Langue: English

Extrait

Catharsis
By
Ardeth Sorrel
Copyright 2018 by Ardeth Sorrel.
For more information about the author, write to the author from: [e-mail].
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author or the publisher.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
MERLIN
WIST
DEAR AURUM (1)
NIGHT TALK
REMEMBER ME
PROPHETS AND KINGS
DEAR AURUM (2)
EMPTY WEAKNESS
LIONHEART
LUSTRE
ENCORE
RENDEZVOUS
DEAR AURUM (3)
MERLIN

I T'S HARD ENOUGH TO face the world alone.
And the city whispers feather soft in your ear
how you are a star given flesh and bone and empty apathy;
whispers everything but how to bridge the spaces that gape between.
Whispers a litany of the cities we call home.
And for all the cobbles and streets and rain-soaked dreams, home eternal is the aching void in my left lung where friendships fade and lovers turn away.
Home eternal is the ripping pain in my very soul where friendships fade and brothers turn away.
There was something here. The bloodstreams were not always empty.
Okay, dawn breaks and the canyons scream of abandonment.
My hands cannot keep up with my mind;
chasing, chasing, chasing fragmented bits of thought around a paper town.
There was something here. The bloodstreams were not always empty.
There it is again:
The crafty restlessness that wears good men down.
The wanderlust. The effervescent dream.
The yearning to walk upon the seas.
To taste the sunshine upon a cloud.
Our godhoods weigh heavy upon our shoulders and we seek simple ways to say it.
The cold doesn't seep in anymore.
It mounted to a crescendo and broke my spine and it doesn't seep in anymore because it now fills every sliver of bone in my body.
This is what a brother's love is.
It's a man standing on a beach at midnight with a violin,
playing song after song to the cold, dark ocean until the sun comes up.
This is what a brother's love is worth.
Ashes on our tongues and embers in our eyes.
I am holding the broken remnants of our errant years.
Forget what we were told.
Were we not young gods at the start of our feuds.
Spitting fire at a world grown brittle and cold and full of rotting bones.