2010 Poetry Challenge

National Poetry Month

Peter Willowdown


Beloved, I am lost without you.
I am a river without a course,
a mystery without a source.
I spill myself in futility upon the arid earth,
bewailing the death of flowers.
The cool caress of the breeze
stirs no response in my soul,
the colour and fragrance of blossom
only awakens emptiness
and a sense of loss.
Amongst all disconsolate lovers
I am the most desolate
for I know of no way back to you.
Unworthy of grace,
the entire world has become a wasteland
through which I wander miserably.
How can things have ever come to this?
Everywhere I go I see
happiness on the faces of children and lovers,
on common people in the street and busy marketplace;
their laughter is like a barb in my heart
for once too the fire of love burned in my soul
before it was extinquished
and your face was turned away from mine.
How many crimes of negligence have I committed
that you subject me to such torment?
Let me perish now while I still at least remember you.

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