I am the prisoner of the ice voices
That talk to me with a lashing air
About cold and dark lands
Where forever, I will find my grave.
Chilled by the cold speech,
I let myself be hurt by the iciness of their words,
While I stir in the extinguished embers of life
With a long bone from my leg.
With a strange black hat
And with an old rag as a suit,
Without companions to urge me on their way,
I remain a skeleton in a clay tomb.
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Author:
Vasile Serban (
Offline) - Published: January 31st, 2026 15:14
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 31
- Users favorite of this poem: RSM0812
Offline)
Comments4
Very graphic in images this poem speaks its metaphors. Well done
Thank you!😊
You are most welcome
I really enjoyed reading the poem. Thank you for sharing 🙏
About cold and dark lands
Where forever, I will find my grave.
I can assure you, eternity is always sunny. Keep going, sir.
This is really good writing. Rather short sweet and very interesting. Keeping the theme of cold and frozen throughout. One of my favorites today for sure.
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