Rhythm of Pain

Despondency danced a bitter turn
Each step attuned to the rhythm of pain
And ague ~ Oh, what an insistent pill
A tyranny desirous of a last resort
Where pain is safely put to bed
Clubbed mercilessly and staining the sheet
One pill ~ One retreat and saving grace
And despondency cleansed and senseless in the surf


ELAshley
062006.063721.6
75 minutes of brain-cramping toil
...and a migraine in the wings



..::Original Comments::..

If the pains anywhere other than your cells, the pill kills time and not the pain... it's like a hiatus, and not retirement. I loved the use of language in this poem. Smile.
Posted by other-clowns on 06/22/2006 07:22:25 AM

Ahh..that sweet brown bottle, so snidely smiles at me too. My little blue friend. Is that my saving grace? It seems malicious that such a sublime thing, life, should mock my admiration of her with a pill. Yes, as the Clown put it, it is only a hiatus. Yet the resting sage, our light and dark mediator, may too give nostrum to that rhythm you dance, and we all dance. Ask him. And later the senseless makes sense once again. Good metaphore
Posted by primitivegroove on 07/07/2006 10:14:12 PM