Spires of Contrition
by
Eric Anderson
(Age: 25)
copyright 07-30-2007
Age Rating: 13 to 127
I sit in my age worn easy chair
In this lonely abode,
Bleached brick walls safeguarding me
While I reminisce,
Entertaining memories of Cerulean skies
Populated with cumulus sculptures of
Forms left to the imagination.
As I leveled my gaze I saw her,
Witnessed her thrashing against the
Grey murky depths of the lake,
Fighting with the animosity of
All Earth's creatures against
This devouring force of nature.
With senseless bravado
I confronted the malicious beast
As it consumed her,
Yet the frail body of a child was no match
For it's numbing, ancient grip.
I relinquished her algid hand,
Ascending at the behest of
My starving lungs,
Surfacing to a changed world.
I sit in my age worn easy chair
In this lonely abode,
Bleached brick walls imprisoning me
While I reminisce,
Contemplating how to allay this penitence,
Anything to support the weight of these spires.
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To clear up some confusion on this... unfortunately, this was about a true event that transpired when I was nine, where I lost my friend Jennifer. I blamed myself for her death ever since, and only after all these years have I been able to write about it, which was a very cathartic experience.
Another interesting one. I'm having a hard time figuring out what event happened to spark this piece of work. I thought it was a free verse and yet it was set to a nice rhythm that sounded close to rhyming. If I may, I think it's another one about a love or someone passing on the street. Something close to life threatening. You saw something different about this person though. You thought that if they happened to leave, you would never be the same again. So you saved them and they lived, then they did end up leaving. So you end up slowly going into your own little depression. Then it goes to the present part of the poem, you're an old man, or just very sluggish looking at the wall trying to think of different ways that should have happened that one time in the past. If I am totally wrong, tell me. Well, talk to you later.
~Alma H.
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