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Let Them Be

Poetry By: Nik89
Poetry



A journey of life through the eyes of a young man.

NOTE: This is the first FULL poem I've ever written in my twenty-one years, so I would greatly appreciate all kinds of feedback as I'm treading in unfamiliar waters. This poem would not exist if it weren't for the great encouragement of two fellow writers and two great ladies; Gideon Elrod and AliCat; this piece is as much as theirs as it is mine.


Submitted:Oct 28, 2011    Reads: 82    Comments: 21    Likes: 10   


Hungry lay the battalion of graves that hide him from the setting sun

Regal and nonchalant like drawn curtains when the play is done

Life demands the imminent eventuality of waves that cease their grating roar

But yet he remains in function, forever craving that validating rapport

Like DNA strands, it links him with purpose; it feeds him with identity and direction

Gluttony, he is a product of; a child of cannibalism, forever feeding off souls

Until the waves cease and he becomes an eerie white ghoul

Soldiers of coercion abduct him from the amnesty of his mother's womb

Thrusting him into the bright metropolitan of masked faces and incoherent sounds

Where the only solace he finds is from the one whose soft cry is cognizant

A juxtaposition of emotions which make her strangely but beautifully poignant

Like music vibrating with memory

Abound, mother and child are in their unspoken cocoon

A tie which evolves like the spring-time flower in bloom

Pregnant grey clouds amass their forces above

The tempestuous assault spearheaded by ominous tongues of flashing sliver

A war of the world Mother Nature perpetually delivers

Outstretched arms of trees groan and dance to the growl of the racing wind

A swelling mass of green canopies and legions of trembling leaves sigh to the chorus

Heavenly showers dimple the still face of the lake

The melting silver of rain hisses as it kisses the ground

Wooden arms of lakeside jetties join the orchestra with a monotonous creak

But silent musings urge the mind to seek

Something too high for syllables to speak

He thumbs the rosary bead from his mother

The one who had told him he was her significant other

Syllables of silence!

Soldiers clashing in a mass field of violence!

But neither mirrors the desolation growing in his heart

The lie is released with a great sigh

He never even had the chance to say goodbye

Tiny streams crawl down his face in the form of tears

Something his masculinity was born to fear

From the ashes rises the great survivor

The freshened grass bears itself upright like a frightened Marine's spine

Sun-baked valleys traverse the land with unabridged abandon

Lustful pomegranate trees bloom like great bouquets

Casting umbrella-like roofs above the great lovers

The shade of crimson is a reflection of her facial skin

Casting him and her in the act the Bible declares as sin

The touch of her soft skin fills him with gluttonous zest

Heart pounding as her hand slowly guides his towards the valley of her small breasts

The fluctuating piano melody unleashes its woeful tale

Flourishing like the female laying under the gentle kisses from the male

The scene of the biblical crime reeks of the smell of friendly fingers

All that is permeated with the fragrance of hair and the musty smell that lingers

White sheets, wrinkled and displaced with the ignorance of children

Remnants of a war that is not waged and orchestrated with a flurry of chattering guns

But a battle that is waged with the nakedness of a thousand splendid suns

The play of passion; a clash of thighs; a hiss of breath; a brush of lips; a kiss of souls

A collage of sweat matted skin; a foolhardy digression from fate

The grand illusion that whisks him from the daggers of life which lay in wait

Distant memories become hazy like vapour in the summer air

Only the tears of storms are summoned by the son who was supposed to be his heir

Unable to survive the invasion of his mother's amnesty

Choked to death he had been to uphold her vanity

She looks at him with tearful sapphire eyes

Unable to suppress her short, painful sighs

We were too young, she cries

Can't you see?

And like he had done with his mother's abrupt departure

He lets them be.





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