deepundergroundpoetry.com
Of Golden Statues
Let's discuss the way
of old hearts
their bleeding dried tears
pump away
While blood cells burn in
ecstasy
-lives only they've lived
Let's buy tickets and
keep the stubs
in treasure boxes
at local
pubs and speak the truth
days gone by
in tunnels winding
true love sung
Let's hold dear the eyes
that shone through
square boxes at night
write the plan
of tomorrow's land
play the words
echoing you-tubes
halls, so grand
Let's drink, a drink to
death songs sang
those wonderers who
built this land
cast their names in brass
parades that never,
burn, delete or fade
Published 8th Apr 2022
| Edited 12th Apr 2022
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 5
reading list entries 2
comments 6
reads 311
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
This particular piece has a terrifically wonderful 'cheers' 🍻 essence surrounding it's decent down the page. I adore that feeling, Al.
Like a salute to those we cherish and wholly miss with every fiber of our being. That first stanza really pulled me in with such visceral abundance...
"Let's discuss the way
of old hearts
their bleeding dried tears
pump away
While blood cells burn in
ecstasy
of lives they only lived"
Oh be still my own beating heart! ♥ For this description so acutely punctuates the enormous celebration of a life uniquely lived and loved. One that really really managed to touch others in a profound, impactful way.
The creative outpour of true reverence emanates from the pen and washes gently over the reader in bold and beautiful strokes.
Leaving us with our glasses held high in respectful honor, cementing a steadfast memorial with sheer joy and fondness.
I was so caught up and touched!
One of my favorites, I think... So far ;)
Marvelous work!-💕
I am so glad to have crossed paths with this poem today. It really left me uplifted!
(Ty for that!)
Much love sent your way ✨
🌹 - B
Like a salute to those we cherish and wholly miss with every fiber of our being. That first stanza really pulled me in with such visceral abundance...
"Let's discuss the way
of old hearts
their bleeding dried tears
pump away
While blood cells burn in
ecstasy
of lives they only lived"
Oh be still my own beating heart! ♥ For this description so acutely punctuates the enormous celebration of a life uniquely lived and loved. One that really really managed to touch others in a profound, impactful way.
The creative outpour of true reverence emanates from the pen and washes gently over the reader in bold and beautiful strokes.
Leaving us with our glasses held high in respectful honor, cementing a steadfast memorial with sheer joy and fondness.
I was so caught up and touched!
One of my favorites, I think... So far ;)
Marvelous work!-💕
I am so glad to have crossed paths with this poem today. It really left me uplifted!
(Ty for that!)
Much love sent your way ✨
🌹 - B
11th Apr 2022 8:57am
I've been caught up and touched for a few days Mrs. Velvet! This comment, the kind words, the insightful review of my words and the sheer glorious beauty in your comment, had me lost for words (if you'd believe it).
I'm going to leave it there, lest a emotional outpouring of tears and deliberation!
Thank You Mrs. Velvet! You're extremely special to me!
Al
I'm going to leave it there, lest a emotional outpouring of tears and deliberation!
Thank You Mrs. Velvet! You're extremely special to me!
Al
8th Apr 2022 9:56pm
The subtle incorporation of social media into this poem about preserving memories is very well done and intriguing.
11th Apr 2022 8:50am
Hey Turpin
Good to see here again!
Thank you for noticing the subtle, I set out to bring that through, when my pen found paper. Preserving memories I feel is important.
It bothers me how that is done in a future world, especially in the arts. To like the concern to what we do, we just write, then disapear and gone!
In a historic reference, the reason poets got famous after death is there works were saved and sold in memory,
Just a thought
Al
Good to see here again!
Thank you for noticing the subtle, I set out to bring that through, when my pen found paper. Preserving memories I feel is important.
It bothers me how that is done in a future world, especially in the arts. To like the concern to what we do, we just write, then disapear and gone!
In a historic reference, the reason poets got famous after death is there works were saved and sold in memory,
Just a thought
Al
Anonymous
8th Apr 2022 10:12pm
You know what this kind of made me think about?
I have a box of ticket stubs. Little trinkets. Bus tickets for journeys that meant something to me. They’re my memories. And they sit on a shelf in the living room, looking at me. Sometimes I look through it and think of all the places they’ve been. The good memories.
I wonder if our poems are the same. If they’re just little trinkets we collect. Some meaning more than others.
The good memories.
And that’s where my mind went reading this. A lovely little tribute to Ray here.
Thank you for sharing.
-M
(PS- also slightly guilty of starting to hum “golden lion” by The Parlotones by the end)
I have a box of ticket stubs. Little trinkets. Bus tickets for journeys that meant something to me. They’re my memories. And they sit on a shelf in the living room, looking at me. Sometimes I look through it and think of all the places they’ve been. The good memories.
I wonder if our poems are the same. If they’re just little trinkets we collect. Some meaning more than others.
The good memories.
And that’s where my mind went reading this. A lovely little tribute to Ray here.
Thank you for sharing.
-M
(PS- also slightly guilty of starting to hum “golden lion” by The Parlotones by the end)
11th Apr 2022 9:04am
"and now that the moons black....."
ticket stubs was indeed the image in this, that I started at. The ticket to the encore, sits on a heart!
I think our poems are indeed the same, a special trinket left in a cyber space for people to fall and in (sometime in the future, I feel that is the essence of DU.)
Thank you for you lovely, delightful comment on this piece. It has a special place in my heart!
Blue Skies Missy Blue Skies
Al
ticket stubs was indeed the image in this, that I started at. The ticket to the encore, sits on a heart!
I think our poems are indeed the same, a special trinket left in a cyber space for people to fall and in (sometime in the future, I feel that is the essence of DU.)
Thank you for you lovely, delightful comment on this piece. It has a special place in my heart!
Blue Skies Missy Blue Skies
Al
