A KILLER PASSION

2 Comments

Poem Commentary

Hippy days were strange and exciting times. Everything etherial was considered the top of the attainment list. People found out that free love was negotiable and drugs were the weeds in the garden of life and that  the next train to enlightenment didn't run on things thrown together in someone's basement. These guys were the flies in the pies.

A KILLER PASSION

A KILLER PASSION

 

 

 

 

Sweetly it rose like a thrush to the dawn

Embodying everything found in her song

What's right became easy

Fears melted away

Time balanced in motion

What words couldn't say

 

Gently she drifted and drank in the dream

Ensconced in the pathos

She entered the stream

His hands were the servants of everyones heart

The strains that were rising cried never depart

 

The room became lucid and touched by the sun

In dreams made electric like deer on the run

Each flicker of passion his fingers evoked

Sent knowing forevers - but neither one spoke

 

The amp in the corner hummed warmly and soared

Each note was presented escaping its chord

Her head slowly weaving her lips were agape

Her eyes were transfixed on his superman cape

 

Her brain raced with freedom His journey was pat

He conjured the power as he brandished his Strat

She broke through with the clouds

While he muscled his dream

[He'd played himself better than any had seen]

 

There was adequate echo and reverb was so sweet

He nurtured each passage like a faraway ghost

But came back with a vengeance

When the turn-a-round spoke

 

He'd played to distraction- was larger than life

And love unrequited provided the knife

Heavens were tumbled; dark canyons in space

The works on her forarm were keeping the pace

She went to forever to chase away pain

She seemed to care less if she got back again.

 

The rythme was solid -strings whizzled and moaned

He'd entered the ramp and was taking it home

Tears ran from closed eyes and his fingers of sweat

Spoke the standing ovation -" We'll never forget"

 

He drove to the finish in a flurry of red

But before he attained it the woman was dead

 

 

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Madelynn commented on A KILLER PASSION

07-25-2009

This is just great writing!-The imagery was perfect.Your wording was so well thought out-it created all these sub-meanings to each line.I loved this piece.The ending was beyond-good-it was chilling! Great write from a great writer!

NevillePark

07/25/2009

That means a lot coming from a great writer like yourself.

Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

NevillePark’s Poems (38)

Title Comments
Title Comments
They played For Keeps Cuz Time Never Sleeps 3
FORGOTTEN SOLDIERS 2
Come by and Pick me Up Lord 5
RAINMAKER 13
Reflection 6
O Son of The Morning 12
Love Fish 6
THE ALLEY 3
UNREQUITED DEATH 6
Sudden Death 2
The Poet and The Sea 5
Dawn 4
The Journey 5
Rappin It Up 3
Poems in Love ~ Edited sayings of Mother Teresa 8
ON TIME 10
W- Five 9
Painter Eleven 3
Yellow Red and Grey 2
Nam 4
FAME 6
High Rollers 3
Gimmy The Beat 2
A KILLER PASSION 2
Here Fishy 4
Alive In The Spirit 2
Bitterness 3
88 in the Shade 3
ASLEEP 6
THE MINUTE MAN 1
BATS 0
The River 4
The Meaning of Easter 3
Selma 0
Hells Bells 5
Fields of Change 3
In A Yellow Sky 3
Love Is 17