To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
Died with Him Old blood, the color of chocolate, stains deep, steeped into the tightly woven fabric. The wounds fresh in memory cannot be washed away. The touch of iron pounded through live flesh. The vision of pain, his eyes alive in the depths of agony. The spear that pierced a heart. In linen wrapped the sight, the marks of death. My death wrapped within that cloth. My blood soaked into its fibers. Laid, buried the stains. |
Additional Notes:
an Easter meditative poem
Sorry, there are no critiques for this poem in our system... If the poem is older, the critiques have been purged!