SophiaOConnor
09-24-2011, 08:55 AM
In my Creative Writing class, we had to write issue poems and I chose a topic pretty close to home. Good news is, no one knew I fell into the category exemplified by the following poem.
I didn't at first have a title for it and when I told my class this, they spent a good deal of time trying to think up some ambiguous thing to call my work. This inspired me toward the title I have thus endowed upon it. I'd like to think the title itself is pretty deep, if you take the time to think about it...
That's enough rambling. (Sorry..)
I Don't Want a Title
by Sophia O'Connor
Cry the blood of angels fallen;
Despair innocence turned sour.
Ignored too long, now since gone--
Cry the blood of angels fallen.
Surrounded by mirrors that lie,
I do cry the blood of angels fallen.
Am I among them? Surely not.
You jest; I rest my case upon this chest.
A coffin; Holding in tight embrace
An angel fallen.
A choice is all it took.
A choice made fragile, this poor angel.
A choice made by fragile insecurities.
Depressed and confounded,
Shaped and shoved into an image unrealistic;
Perfection touches her mind's eye,
and she is lost to struggle.
Cry the blood of angels fallen.
For themselves, they never cry.
Of themselves, they do oft weep.
Abuses are too many and too welcome.
Objects sharp gladly meet
Reluctant skin bare to bear the crime.
Rubies fall, catching light, as we fall to dark,
As we cry the blood of angels fallen.
Insides that twist and shrivel;
Devoured from the inside.
As sharp meets bare,
As we cry the blood of angels fallen.
Hooded specters can attest;
A single rose upon the breast.
The close do cry,
The far ask why;
So spills the blood of angels fallen.
A choice--
A choice was all it took.
Yes, a choice, I say,
Is life's sane crook.
Angels soar over dreary Earth.
Free as can be,
But do not forget, can bleed.
--
Feedback please <3
x
I didn't at first have a title for it and when I told my class this, they spent a good deal of time trying to think up some ambiguous thing to call my work. This inspired me toward the title I have thus endowed upon it. I'd like to think the title itself is pretty deep, if you take the time to think about it...
That's enough rambling. (Sorry..)
I Don't Want a Title
by Sophia O'Connor
Cry the blood of angels fallen;
Despair innocence turned sour.
Ignored too long, now since gone--
Cry the blood of angels fallen.
Surrounded by mirrors that lie,
I do cry the blood of angels fallen.
Am I among them? Surely not.
You jest; I rest my case upon this chest.
A coffin; Holding in tight embrace
An angel fallen.
A choice is all it took.
A choice made fragile, this poor angel.
A choice made by fragile insecurities.
Depressed and confounded,
Shaped and shoved into an image unrealistic;
Perfection touches her mind's eye,
and she is lost to struggle.
Cry the blood of angels fallen.
For themselves, they never cry.
Of themselves, they do oft weep.
Abuses are too many and too welcome.
Objects sharp gladly meet
Reluctant skin bare to bear the crime.
Rubies fall, catching light, as we fall to dark,
As we cry the blood of angels fallen.
Insides that twist and shrivel;
Devoured from the inside.
As sharp meets bare,
As we cry the blood of angels fallen.
Hooded specters can attest;
A single rose upon the breast.
The close do cry,
The far ask why;
So spills the blood of angels fallen.
A choice--
A choice was all it took.
Yes, a choice, I say,
Is life's sane crook.
Angels soar over dreary Earth.
Free as can be,
But do not forget, can bleed.
--
Feedback please <3
x