Swans Commentary » swans.com January 30, 2006  

 

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by Gerard Donnelly Smith

 

Poetry

 

 

(Swans - January 30, 2006)  
Meditation no longer works. Closing my eyes,
I see headless Buddhist monks searching for satori.
Trying to breathe calmly, I hear a last breath
emptying another war casualty of earthly worries.
Unable to sit still, I rock back and forth, my knees
pressed tightly against the anger in my heart.

Drinking no longer works. Quenching my despair,
my tongue bursts into flames, charring the numb silence.
Trying to drown sorrow, I feel my heart leap into a furnace,
rushing toward consumption and cowardice.
Unable to swallow, I pour the liquor, gurgling like blood
from my self-inflicted wound, down my throat.

Poetry no longer works. Reading these lines,
I see bullets instead of words, destroying figures of speech
that cannot speak to the horror or the terror.
Unable to find compassion for soldiers or insurgents,
I bury my head into the bosom of the woman I love,
then cry myself into a fitful, drunken sleep.

 

 

Keep the fountain of poetry flowing on Swans

Internal Resources

Poetry

America the 'beautiful'

 

About the Author

Gerard Donnelly Smith on Swans (with bio).

 

Legalese

Please, feel free to insert a link to this work on your Web site or to disseminate its URL on your favorite lists, quoting the first paragraph or providing a summary. However, please DO NOT steal, scavenge, or repost this work on the Web or any electronic media. Inlining, mirroring, and framing are expressly prohibited. Pulp re-publishing is welcome -- please contact the publisher. This material is copyrighted, © Gerard Donnelly Smith 2006. All rights reserved.

 

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