ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel
  • »
  • Books, Literature, and Writing

An Uninvited Guest, death foretold

Updated on April 6, 2012

This is intended as part three of series In my garden of Sour grapes you can read :

Part 1

Part 2

In my garden of desolation sits a man with wine in his glass

In his middle finger he wears an antique ring of brass

Silently, he sips his bloody red drink smirking from time to time

As I stare to the deadly scenery while weaving despair into my rhymes

He eyes me openly with every excruciating sip

And I ignore making eye contact, careful not to slip

Yet by time my heart screams, and yearns for those eyes

Yet into my compositions of sighs,

Everything around me dies, even the blue skies

And as I watched the girls in my garden burn and mutter

Words of desolations, only for his laughs to smother

He approaches the maiden swiftly, latter who stands frozen

And cracks her neck, laying her gently, on the floor broken

Then walks past her corpse to hand the other a rose

Through her chest, and into her heart his rose goes

Calmly, to my horror he walks past her corpse showing no remorse

Bewildered I stand staring at my past

Rivers of silky blood on the ceramic floor contrast

Yet days roll like nothing like a treacherous unfair dice

The scenery in my garden is devoured by silence

And there remains the death of only a few to bear witness

Yet, with every death, the man with the blues eyes

Sits again sipping his wine listening to my endless cries

Silence only breeds secrecy and contempt

Nothing but hate to oneself, so repent!”

Once again he stares, only this time while wearing a smile on his face

Tipping his glass so utterly he pours the wine on the floor “This race,

Has been lost ages ago , so shatter!

Burn, let the ashes of death scatter!

Then with death comes the rebirth, ONLY stronger

And the cycle begins the fight over and over!”

And so he whispers into my broken thoughts that it is time to whither

Let the flames of the past engulf your body, let it smother!

Until there are no more tears,

For whenever you surrender to your fears,

Only then you become stronger”

~I resent, I object
I will not yield, I reject~

Now a few months later I remain shackled to my sour grape vines

Watching them bear sour fruits that will never turn into wine

Unable to find strength in his words,

I fall, burning to the floor like outdone love birds

Muttering in silence his words , I sigh

Yet if I fall from a tower that high,

I might shatter beyond salvation or rejuvenation

And hence lose feeling of my world, lose sensation

So I grip the past, treacherous as it seems

Staring at the corpses of the girls under the dying sun beams

Singing, “I walked defeated and scarred

Claimed by sadness touched by darkness

In my garden of sour grapes I indulge myself in madness

Beyond the river of hope and into the sea of despair I row

And self-destruction to the man with blue eyes I vow”


    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    • raciniwa profile image

      raciniwa 5 years ago from Naga City, Cebu

      Welcome back Uriel...i was wondering where did you go...and now you captivate me with this...such hatred that consumes the human soul, i am wondering if it will singe the character in this poem?

    • profile image

      jenubouka 5 years ago

      uriel! My greatest writer, I only hope with the summer comes more writing time for you! I distinctly remember you were one of the first "hubbers" I followed, and you give incredible reason. I love every tone, every interpretation you allow the reader to dwell inside their own mind, at least for me. And to come from Lebanon, well sister you are the closest thing I will come to my home! This poem retches my inner soul and I only hope there is more to follow! Miss you sister!

    • Nikkij504gurl profile image

      Nikki Wicked 5 years ago from Louisiana

      Such a dark, captivating, tragic story.