The Victor Weeps (Re-edited into blank verse from free)

A friend here on the cafe suggested that I try writing my poems in blank verse. Many of them seem to be near to that type of poetry to begin with. This is another I found that fits that style well, the first lines already in an eight syllable meter.

There is an echo resounding
somewhere near the back of my skull
twisting into epiphany
sharp, a frozen arrow of thought-
given unintentionally
by you, a memory returns-

burgeoning of my young reason.

My knife has a dull edge and so,
I cannot cut your words away,

not for now and not forever-
instead have distilled them into
a bitter pool in a chamber

of my heart to stagnate and form
putrefying, acid that eats
At my unconcious resistance

I am concious most of the time
your words are not fresh or new now
nothing, not a part of my self
yet still it has chinks, my armor
and lets you return to my thoughts
to wreak havoc, toy with my will

I am the victor, but bear wounds
that choose when and where they shall weep
gangrenous in the anguish of

rembrance's sweeping riptide
pouring themself through my being
inundating the me I love
drowning out her frail, little voice

Can you hear her wail on this night?
This little girl who has become
a woman crying in the same voice;
the small,worthless crumb of a soul,
who dared seek your kindness and love,
reemerged when I least expect her ?

Reviews

[Michael]

This one read beautifully too. The only suggestion I can come up with is maybe to break the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th stanza into two punctuated sentences. As they are now, the reader cannot catch a breath. Punctuation will naturally slow the read down a bit. Other than that, you are spot on!

Wonderful

PS: I am picking the fly-s### out of the pepper with my remarks but I agree with you, even if you don't take a suggested change, it is good to think about them.

[MandarinOranges]

Intense read!

I am the victor, but bear wounds
that choose when and where they shall weep
gangrenous in the anguish of
rembrance's sweeping riptide
pouring themself through my being
inundating the me I love
drowning out her frail, little voice

Luv it. Excellent write!