Original Poetry and Stories
Our Midi Musicbox *
Save Cookie?  
Forgot Password?

Letter Left Open

by Walter Jones (Age: 72)
copyright 04-05-2011

Age Rating: 16 +

Blood fills the mind
Wine the cup
Bread the season
Hate holds the reason
Time is a burden left
Pray for the better

Ripples burn the shade in man
Write the voice of season

Reasons to the wall
All the faith is in call

Altar bearing souls to perfect stray
Child of the heart passes forth today

Answers are ringing on the wall
Only the bodies of truth fall

Caption on maters of the soul
Grow the anxious need for them all

Cross-left on the hill
Sight of the heartache
Proof of the kill

Lord we wander seeking fate
In the dark of night by the garden gate

A stone is rolled early or late
For the time has come but eh time is fate

Silence passes in the way covered tall
Love me God please do not fall

Visitor Reads: 654
Total Reads: 681

Author's Page
Email the Author
Add a Comment

Comments on this Article/Poem:
Click on the commenter's name to see their Author's Page

        04-27-2011     Mae Futter Stein        

Hi Walter,
Nice poem. So smooth and full of wisdom. Well written. I loved reading this, and you made it a perfect size and easy to understand. Thanks for sharing.

        04-27-2011     Irina Guschina        

There is something hidden in every good poem. So, we need to be able 'to read between lines' as we call it here.

Sure, 'Letter Left Open' because 'A stone is rolled early or late'.

'... seeking fate
In the dark of night by the garden gate..."

Great metaphor, Walt!

        04-14-2011     Alan Reed        

Yes, what about the cup, Walter?

        04-13-2011     Frank Fields        

Sooner or later, for most of us too soon, the stone is rolled. Then in the sepulcher of darkness, final tally may be made. Was the cup offered enough, or withheld too many times?

Strange, perhaps, the thoughts that come to mind from your works. For me, at any rate. ^^

Frank :)

        04-13-2011     Raja Sharma        

God is never going to leave any of us and I am sure that if we think otherwise there must be something missing in the beautiful understanding of the Lord and His creations.

Sir, your poem moves in circles and I move with the circles. It brings the picture of special and common simultaneously, without any prejudice.

The line which I am going to pick is 'Time is a burden left' rest is commentary.

Yes, tumults in live bring transformations in human life and with every passing years reason gets stronger and stronger. The way you say all this things is unmatched and I salute you, Sir.

The scene of Lord's crucifixion touched me.

God bless you

        04-06-2011     Elijah Sowder        

As a whole, I thought the poem was really good, but for some reason, I loved just the first part by itself. I can't really explain why though. But very good overall, I think this poem came at the right time.
Death for our sins. Can it ever be repaid, With imperfect skins, And every sinful day?

        04-06-2011     Alan Reed        

Very nicely and smartly written. As soft as free-falling into permanent sleep.

We reach, we envision. We wander and pass through extraordinary gates; to splendor in all grasses. We are delusional and wonder if heaven is Utopia as the wine softens the cerebellum.

Meanwhile, we live the joy that interweaving thoughts and spirits pave on the road with toward wisdom and then maybe nothingness.

Really enjoyed the write and will do something soon with a similar, cool rhyme scheme. Thanks for the images. I see them clearly through inebriated cataracts, :-)

left curlique right curlique
About PnP Privacy Points Terms of Service Banners Contact Us F.A.Q