Untitled Poem (Curiosity) What Should The Title Be?

Photo Taken from the WEB

UNTITLED POEM

And October will always be the cruellest month,

for it homes the bastard child we conceived,

with a love so impure, it will surely doom our

unborn seed, who is nourished by hurtful deceit,

nurtured in the belly of a Judas.

The slit between madness and legibility has diminished;

my solace is restless these days.

It wafts in the drunken air that blows comfort into my poetry,

and drowns in a river of salty sadness.

I have covered the distance between madness and legibility;

and have conquered the stripped fields amid,

a space where deprivation is acquainted with normalcy.

October will always be the cruellest month…

Now, my words are home where we once stayed together,

Sophie can feel the creases and wrinkles of me

among my stanzas and around the curve of my honesty.

She listens to my murmurs,

She dwells in the lyrical content of my odes to her beauty.

I, too, embellish my verses with her smile.

…and October will always be the cruellest month,

for it homes the bastard child we conceived,

with a love so impure, it will surely doom our

unborn seed, who is nurtured in the belly of a Judas.

Now I die once again.

© 2011 by Charles Banks, Jr.

Writing as CURIOSITY

2011 Photo by Derrick Denton

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