Bitter the Taste of Memory, of Me






The Thirty-One Days of Poetry (2013 Edition)

Day - the Third






Bitter the Taste of Memory, of Me




Ashes of Pain and Sadness burn my eyes 
As they escape the dying fire. 

They coat my tongue.
Bitter; the taste of memory, of me. 

Waiting at the fire's edge; 
The Darkness slowly closing in like a vise. 

This is the Vigil of my Destruction, 
And the Watch is not yet done.













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2 comments:

Ltrain said...

This is excellent. I was teleported. I would change the title, perhaps. Not that that line isn't the centerpiece, it is - it just seems like it is more powerful, maybe because it is novel, and unemphasized, if you read it for the first time in verse. As unsolicited suggestions I offer "The Dying Fire" and "The Vigil of My Destruction." I imagine that you are wedded to the phrase "taste of memory" in particular as an encapsulatory synaesthetic, which is understandable.

Hyperion said...

This is a not-altogether terrible suggestion. No, dammit, I can be gracious. Your idea is superior, and your reasoning is sound. The line is good, and making it the title is powerful, but robs the reader of impact in-poem. I'm going to change it for the official resting place of the poem over on Literary Hype.

This is the vigil of my poem-titling suckiude.