Sixth day in the summer of June
On a night so lonely without a moon
a prince is born with a heart of stone,
and a gaze that freezes blood to bone
Ghostly shapes on tattered walls
It's you he seeks, it's you he calls
When his little fingers cross
watch your grief and wail your loss
This is love, this is my child
Heavens shivered when he smiled
A blinding hunger in his eyes
feast of flesh with hovering flies
Education is what he needs
for a story now he pleads
So I tell him a tale of terror
misjudgment, a willful error
School of Sin has opened gates
In the shadows the father waits
Not for him those age old rhymes
Feed him with some nursery crimes
Swindle, swindle, little scars,
silent howls from prison bars
Up above the hanged man dies
like the truth in a world of lies
Kshitij, as a poet, you have managed to achieve something that many of us lack - have a perfect beginning, middle and end. I know my own weakness lies in writing the end of a poem and it almost always ends up sounding lame. Kudos to you, you are not only a master at all three, but have managed to continue it poem after poem. I agree with Classy's points - 'crooked fingers' would definitely be better; ditto for the 4th stanza - it is good if seen alone, but the rest of the poem has a grander sound, and if you redo the words just a bit here and there in that one, it will be great. I love the twisted nursery rhyme in the last stanza (my sister and I have this habit of twisting all songs, poems, etc into whatever we want them to sound like, so this was special fun for me!)
And oh, I think you are too modest! You really ARE an amazing poet.
Posted: Aug 23, 2008