Her tombstone

Another night had passed

Another tear shed was wasted

Feelings awakened from their grave

To be buried once again

In blood stained soil they shall remain

Until a monsoon passes by

And uncovers the leftovers from yesterday

Rain will corrupt her graveyard

As tears fall to the ground

And emotions shall be washed

Leaving the tombstone behind in

A glow of moistened moss

Tearing away the inscription

Of her memory holding grave

She wrote to be alive

 

Reviews

[Wulfstan Crumble]

The monsoon reference was interesting. Monsoons are of course hurricanes but are only present in the Sub-continent. So, this locates your story in India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka or Bangladesh... possibly Myanmar and Thailand too.

The poem is powerful as is the last line. Who's tombstone is it? Is this an imagination of your own stone or a tribute to a writer. I wonder what the secret is...i'd love to know. is it contained within the poem?

Suggestion:

Another tear shed was wasted - the flow might be a little off here. How about: "Another wasted tear was shed" or Another shed tear was wasted". I prefer the first one.

[Andrew - Moon Fixer]

Okay you got me I love this. And you know I love the darkness. a few of my stories say that very well. The blood and tears. Too me they would mix. blood and tears. so beautiful. ...Evil laugh...
Thank you
Moon Fixer

[Zeva]

I like the word play and the imagery very much. I especially liked the last few lines--they sort of jolted me a bit.

I say this to everyone, but I think adding punctuation here and there would help break things up a bit and help it flow in general, which is sort of a paradox, but whatever. =] Awesome poem, and thanks for entering my contest.

[Gypsy Butterfly]

i love the last line, she wrote to be alive.

Is this what we all do? we write therefore we are, we are therefore we write?