Poems by beepd
Burning the Soul
My eyes have seen the fires of hell
in whose flaming ball we all must succumb
and scream at the injustice of our deaths.
So hungry are the bloodshot eyes
that their focus is not riveted toward the screams beyond
but rather at the emptiness that surrounds them.
To feel the burn is not to feel
but to watch yourself from afar
and to see
just another hollow figure pass you by.
My soul is freed;
life is left behind
in a pathetic puddle on the floor
of crushed, charred bones and dreams.
What can life bring to you
when you destiny lies only a few feet away
in the midst of the overwhelming stench of burning flesh?
They can burn our bodies
and tease us with fire
but our souls are ours forever.
Biographical sketch: dancer, michigan
A Donald Justice Reader: Selected Poetry and Prose by Donald
Reason: To feel as if you were there.
Recommendations for writers:
Make sure that your audience can put them into your place, but
leave some imagination for the audience to figure out.