On the bank

on the bank, of the shallow crimson lake

where the footprints of past appear at night,

the sands cry blood tears with him, for his sake,

.

forlorn blossoms grow there, for him to take,

to let them flow in waters, in his sight

on the bank of the shallow crimson lake,

.

where, her existence, he would carve, and make

his pain glow in the long day’s last light,

sands crying blood tears beneath him, for his sake,

.

the monotonous routine, he can’t break,

his wild saggy face seems to him just right,

on the bank, of the shallow crimson lake,

.

he crawls, leaving his trail, of a weak snake,

tired of loss and living, he can not fight

sands crying blood tears, beneath him, for his sake,

.

he capitulates, no longer forsake

emptiness of darkness, so very quiet

on the bank, of the shallow crimson lake,

where sands cry blood tears, with him, for his sake

.

This is tagged as the poem for 17 November for NaBloPoMo.

And I am also linking it up with Poetry Pantry # 176.

Image source

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13 thoughts on “On the bank

  1. I guess I have not lived long enough in the UK to begin really appreciating English poetry 🙂

    By the way, I like the name of your blog. I also need to create new worlds in order to bear this one.

    Cheers.

    Like

  2. Well written and image-filled poem of his futile struggle, HA. Somehow I think he was doomed before he started and just couldn’t make it to a place of safety.

    Like

  3. Many thanks for the like on my post this morning. I hope you will return again soon and often. I will enjoy reading your poetry and looking at your beautiful photos! Namaste. . .

    Like

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