Previous Challenge Entry (Level 1 – Beginner)
Topic: Sad (07/26/07)
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TITLE: "RAPE!" | Previous Challenge Entry
By Frank Salerni
07/27/07 -
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ADD TO MY FAVORITES
I looked down at the old photograph in my hand,
Tattered and torn, for the years hath worn,
How tape and glue could not undue,
The love displayed in black and white.
I looked, and now could understand,
Shattered and forlorn by time, by scorn,
How rape did do unjustly brew,
A dove dismayed in open flight.
Fallen faith, was never given time to repair,
Vengeance held back, birthed murder in fact,
Violent tears in the night set my Spirit un-right.
“Justice my friend!” Hear the message I send.
All in eighth note sever was cutting despair,
Men compelled to attack, unleashed demons attract,
Silent years hold on tight, met with fears, flight or fight,
Just as I tend, and now presage amend.
Innocence lost, her life was the cost.
Oh, she lasted a while, with guilt, and defile,
She could not cope for long, “I am ruined!” was her song
Her purity marred, now eternally scared.
Emotionally tossed, her shame now embossed.
“Please show me a smile?” but her lilt… was futile.
“God can forgive of this wrong!” “But, to whom do I belong?”
“Feeling feathered, and tarred, my friends recoil, it’s so hard.”
“Once a butterfly sings, now Satan has pulled off my wings,
And, I crawl to my tomb, I once called… my room.”
… She left us that night, and my heart is held tight,
As in a vice of despair what a waste of God’s care.
“My God! As I live, help me to forgive,
I need love and not hate, but I’m lost in this state,
Of contempt, and heart wrenched sorrow,
Not wanting the sunrise tomorrow.”
Will I ever be free drowning daily by this sea?
My only consolation, although mostly temptation,
Is knowing her violator faces His wrath,
Hell’s flames are stoked daily, as he walks down this path.
I must repent, and live a life of anger management,
May her assailant finds God, and finds forgiveness where he’s trod,
Although I may stumble and fall, with its wherefore all,
Trusting in Jesus, I’ll laud, for He still is my God.
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Some of your word choices may be a bit "off"--words that don't quite mean what you intend.
But altogether, this is an effective and very sad poem. Good job.
And, I crawl to my tomb, I once called… my room.”