Genki's Song
©2009 Robert C Burnham
Her blood has dripped from the tines of men
Her soul's been draped papyrus thin
Her body scarred a time or two
Her spirit hammered in her youth
Her heritage mocked as 'old country quaint'
Her eyes unfocused, her image faint
Come to me Goddess of Light
Am I strong enough to share your night?
No, but I seek a moment under your eyes
To escort you out of other men's lies
Now it's men's blood which drip from tines
Their souls are now the transparent vines
Her body shakes from laughter bold
She has grown up without growing old
Her people love her, they embolden her on
It is her heritage which has made her strong
Come to me Goddess of Dark
Am I strong enough to impress your heart
No, I know that I must desist
Your freedom now, requires that you resist
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Comments: 52
thanks robert
wow this is very well done Not many men can write a poem like this one
They could Vivian, if they weren't afraid of pain.
exceptional point~
A very diverse and interesting read my friend!
Thank you for posting your strong and open poetic to GutterGirls~
Great imagery, dear Robert, and I'm quite impressed by the poem! :-)
Blessings and best wishes - S.
100 points to you, if they had them that high
Visceral and gritty.
I like most of it, but have a problem with the phrase "embolden her on". I find it jarring.
Good. It's suppose to be gritty, jarring and disturbing. It's not your Disney fairytale.
Sorry, I meant linguistically jarring.
The rest of the poem has the effect I think you are looking for, but this line kind of took me out of that space and made me pay attention to the use of language, rather than being swept up in the message.
Well, ok, but I like it just as it is. :+)
Beautiful, Robert. Thanks for sharing. You are now featured at READING BOOKS ONLINE!
Marvelous flow and use of rhyme and rhythm in this powerful tribute to Genki.
Thinking of what Rory said, I wonder if "embolden" may weaken the rhythm a bit in that line; but it makes sense, yes.
Wish I could have rated this, Robert! It's exquisite and very thought provoking as expressed! I loved it!!
Thank you Sandy. I would rather not have ratings whenever my subject is so easily recognized, less one of my subjects mistakes a low rating as a personal appraisal.
Wow. I like it.
Wonderful.
very nice poem!
This is very good Robert, I like the ethereal quality of the poem.
I really liked this one, kind of 'wicked'
Hey Jersey Girl, you do know 'wicked' is a Maine word?
And I like your description.
thanks
A most excellent poem, Robert. Powerful and evocative.
Thanks.
Robert thank you for a great poem
Wicked transcends regional boundaries.
Sharp poem. Interesting font, too. ;-)
The font was a find today, it's called "Berlin".
from your sister you know I don't like this type.
Enjoyed it very much! Give Streaker a scratch for me.
Scratch delivered. She just got out of the tub, she's clean and silky smooth.
Another piece of masterful writing. This has a great flow to it.
We are truly linked! Anyway you have dealt with the subject tenderly. Great poem.
Other side of the moon
This one has such class my friend! I'm happy to have read it dear one. Thanks so very much for posting to my group, Anythingwriting
another great one
Wonderful combination of emotions...including respect for her independence.
wonderfully written and wonderful to read!
awesome!
I do like seeing me through the eyes of others~it's like a strange little mirror~ you pegged me here~
SWAT!
I take the SWAT back~ ;)
Hekate's Child
Laurie Corzett/libramoon
Child of Hekate,
sweetness and light?
Where is the mark
of your entombment?
Buried prematurely,
to strive for growth
in dark enclosure
striving for a breath
of the pompously negligent
Sun,
of the blushing Moon
of the squabbling sons and daughters,
of daylight's pleasures.
Striving, tenderly
twisting around corners
aching for an unknown touch.
"Tell me, sir, then, how's it going now?"
Looking up narrowly from a tepid meal,
all at once remembering
playfellows on the schoolyard
running, out of breath,
filled with pride
a jolly good game.
Always someone begging
my attention,
but it wasn't really me,
just a story to steam off
or a butt to joke on.
All the silly give and take;
only time is taken
and that in big hungry chunks
of no tomorrows.
One long day
now the part all groggy
waking from fevered napping.
It wasn't supposed to be a tomb
nestled in Transylvanian bloodlines.
It was meant to be a child's cot,
freshly laundered cotton lace.
But the rats got in,
once the cats had been slaughtered.
Slowly wakening
I strive again to find my footing.
Learning to walk
was never as easy
as forgetting to fly.
Marilyn