Poetry

Joel Robison

By

Lianne Kamp

Silent Vigil

gather it up in strong arms

hold this gently to your chest

breathe it into lungs and heart

not another drop of blood

on the floor

no more

bloody tracks

for

vengeful and eager feet

to track in random directions

dragging corpses

they have no right to touch

hush let the sounds of grief

crash in sound waves that

only the mourning can hear

not another syllable

thrown

unto the pyre

for

quick and thirsty tongues

to sharpen their points

on open wounds

they have no right to lick

Lianne Kamp

I came to Boston many years ago to write poetry.  Although I never abandoned poetry altogether, life had different plans for me. I have rediscovered the importance of writing and over the last year have been published in a number of Prolific Press journals. Mainly, I write poetry to make my world more panoramic by watching it more closely.