Too long have my eyes been
salt‑wells,
each dawn a wound, each moon
a mask of grief,
each sun a bitter chalice
poured upon my tongue.
Love, sharp as a spear,
has swollen me
where languor daggers
the marrow.
O let the keel of my soul crack,
let me founder
in the abyssal mush,
to be swallowed whole
by the fathoms
where silence is
my only hymn.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 20th, 2025 06:32
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 37
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange, Megan Blaney
Offline)
Comments6
On seas of fortune where sirens entice and deceive the depths of dark tears are the only solace one receives. Dark and murky the words of this poem that sings not a hymn but a dirge or requiem. Lacrimosa how sweet your shadows. A most lovely write my friend and a fave
And such a beautiful poetic response, Soren 🙏🏻🕊️
Your poems one of the highlights of my day, whether kindred souls or merely your poetic genius they are a source of enjoyment my friend
I am of the mind that poets are kindred souls of sorts. We just have to realize it in our interactions and then we discover its length and breadth and depth throughout its varied journeys! 🙏🏻🕊️
A fine write A.
Arqios, this is a slow descent through grief’s waterline…salt, spear, keel cracking, swallowed silence. It’s visceral, lyrical, and heartbreakingly grounded. Truly remarkable work and a fave, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Ooft! That's a deep one, yet not so unfathomable as to be difficult to understand. You've caught the desperate yearnings of the heart so very well. So much to admire in your writing!
You are a poet to aspire to! Stunning
Very emotive words Rik so well written.
Andy
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