Mr. Bones

March 24, 2010 at 16:34 8 comments

Anchors weigh me down
yet, I still cannot drown
All the sins I’ve done,
how shall I atone?

Like a failing sun’s moon
I was left to croon
songs from departed friends
to these thight iron brands

Their dreams not yet reality
all because of my frailty
spring showed no mercy
calling it my own heresy

The white hollow bone
which once flesh called home
shall come off with it
the day I shall quit

Singing this mournful song.


Entry filed under: Offbeat, poetry. Tags: , .

Ballads of Fallen Angels Famine

8 Comments Add your own

  • 1. slpmartin  |  March 24, 2010 at 20:12

    I personally like how you framed this poem…thanks for sharing it.

    • 2. Hemanth  |  March 25, 2010 at 01:04

      You are welcome. Thank you for reading my poems 🙂

  • 3. Nalini Hebbar  |  March 25, 2010 at 19:45

    sad and melancholic poem…sad to the bones…and that means you have done a great job!!!

    • 4. Hemanth  |  March 26, 2010 at 01:11

      Thank you, very much 🙂

  • 5. Sangeeta  |  March 26, 2010 at 18:56

    Wow, the elegy is very moving! It makes you look like you’ve not a funny bone in your body. And, yet, you do. Great poem, there!

    • 6. Hemanth  |  March 26, 2010 at 19:51

      Oh, thank you very much for the kind words.

  • 7. Aayushi  |  March 29, 2010 at 22:41

    good work, the emotions shine through very well!

    • 8. Hemanth  |  March 30, 2010 at 11:54

      Thank you very much, Aayushi.


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