Stains On My Soul

Wednesday: February 4, 2015

After studying various poems by e.e. cummings, our English assignment was to imitate his rebellious style and write our own concrete poem.


Welcome
to a
world
                              where    
the
psychotic make
      sense and the
sane laugh
hysterically
but tears
still come
while the smile
fades away.
But my subtle ginger colored eyes were
Warmer than the cheap excuse for coffee that
filled my stained black mug. The loveless      wind
became your symphony to my ears while          the
insanity created a painted image of lonli-             ness
that Van Gogh never could. Happy replaced             with
distraught as the coffee gets cold but inevi             tably        
it has to just as the valleys and mountain           hills
have an up or a down. Admiration for the        heart
gets you so far but remember what’s new   always
gets old. Regardless of fingers fitting perfectly
in between the spaces of each other, the souls
still connect to remain eternally to each other.






Katya Podkovyroff
"The September Journalist"

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