Krystal Pen

Fiction, Poetry and everything Literary. Every voice should be heard.

This is how a man dies/ Poetry

First;
He chases shadows
of coins and delicate things budding from Sheba’s queen
dancing in the wind,
bearing no compass.

Second;
He wears away from his vessel
like woeful steam rejecting a black kettle.

Third;
He becomes hyacinth roaming Forcados;
homeless,
while his vessel wears away
and finds a space among clays.

Fourth;
He becomes a memory.
This is how a man dies.

Advertisements

Categories: Home, Poems

Tags: ,

2 replies

  1. Really, this is how a man does. Vanity upon vanity.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s