Notice of absence from Tristan Robert Lange
Living in the Pocono Mountains has its perks, no doubt. Internet connectivity ain't one of them. Please forgive my tardiness as of late. The tech gods be thundering!
Living in the Pocono Mountains has its perks, no doubt. Internet connectivity ain't one of them. Please forgive my tardiness as of late. The tech gods be thundering!
There was a child
Who longed to live
Life and true love
Of which he’d give.
Dreams of sunlight
And garden trees
Bearing much fruit;
Ripening to please.
Days of innocence,
Of playful dreams,
Came to a hault
Like dried up streams.
The garden a pox,
Death it became,
Dusty and desolate,
A remorseful shame.
His house a tomb,
Cursed with decay.
The boy now a man,
Innocence betrayed.
Dust and bones,
A mortal coil,
The living dead
Becoming a foil.
Withered garden,
A decrepit tomb,
There’s no way to
Retreat to the womb.
Death-head agape,
Displayed on a shelf.
The boy’s a phantom,
Of his former self.
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: January 3rd, 2019 00:32
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 32
Offline)
Comments2
Very interesting and well written...please see my poem "Phantoms"...take care...Happy New Year
Thanks! Will do. Happy New Year to you too!
Be a phoenix not a phantom?
🙁
Thanks for reading!
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