Crying
poem by:
Braverman Waltz
Written
on Nov 18, 2016
My sleep is tired my eyes unheard of and this excitement bares no shame the mirror spoken and with a song left wrinkles that have no name an attempt to scribble on pasture green where mornings color alumes I leave to tarry where bridges crossed await no ageing doom with spirit crying and young men dying unearthed is loud and stained we have but counted amidst this storm a bucket filled with pain So lose to winning for nothing gives as a solider laughs in fear for when we stand against the coin the last to fall is tear.
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Q. Ramirez commented on Nov 22, 2017 at 7:10pm
I have read all of your work and pondered on the thought of what was not written. This "Crying" is one of my favorite poems from you. You remind me of Gertrude Stein and although some may find your poems confusing, I find them to be fascinating. You are truly gifted. Keep writing.
