Friend
poem by:
Edouard Ligand
Written
on Feb 13, 2015
Sang froid is in the literal grave installed The dust you attempt to shake off is never there Unless the spittle dried on hated-face on hated-wall Can freshly mount the deceptive air Will you remember, my all-too-unbrief friend? Will my hard-wrung words pull a sinew to bend? Will saints in swift succession abide, measured in grace Along abscissa to a none-too-holy sticking place? "Don't press the Bard in my face!"; guttural Yet less of the gutter More unto platitudes And slight-salted butter.
Tags: anger, love, faith, inspirational, pain, dark,
Add Comment
J S commented:
its like i understand the meaning behind this poem but at the same time i dont, its very cryptic, i like it
Edouard Ligand
commented:
Your understanding is your assured instinct for words (STOP is a favourite) and that is worth more than gold. Many thanks.
Christopher Russon
commented:
I like this poem Very deep.but it is a well written poem.
