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Thursday, 24 February 2011

The Closed Doors Part 3/3

Conscience of the know
Sits in thoughts of  the archived files
If only the priest will hear my confessions 
Before the awakening of my selfish sleep

Where man of self preservation 
Lies in comfort sleep, replenishing the holy grail 
While sight of  the daily know, ignored
Comes back to haunt the night

But the priest can not hear my thoughts; 
He says “this is not what he signed up for” 
The best he offers is a prayer for the dying man 
A few references made along the line of chit chat

“May the lord have mercy on their souls” 
The priest is not ready for my confessions
And the tears, and mercy to be felt, 
For the destitute

Are not enough to go around 
They weigh too much on burden, 
Like crosses carried of another man

So in a little while after empathy 
These doors of see, hear and know
Will become closed doors 

On instinct of self preservation
Another sight, is just around the corner
Another hear, see and know
The priest is not ready for my confessions 
Shared with: The Thursday Think Tank http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/


  1. Your writing is deep and beautiful. I write on loose peices of paper. I also got a book of simple poems published thru Lulu for some one who is just learning English Language. I mean we cannot hand them Shakespear right away.

  2. Intense and very well expressed!
    I know this feeling Hugs xx

  3. I need to read the other parts I think! Great intensity to this poem.


  4. brilliant ......so intense..

  5. Profound words, the intensity of this piece rides high along the paths of life. Tough endings, tough confessions not wanted to hear. Well done.

  6. Ohh maaannn.. it's horrible to be alone, and have no one to listen to you!! It's like some huge burden...isn't it ?!

    Well expressed here, Kodjo... It was so intense that I could almost hear the pain and misery in your words here...


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