The Reader Poem by David Beckham

The Reader

Rating: 5.0


STRUCK WITH GRIEF, S/HE PICKS A POEM TO READ, BUT FINDS ITS CONTENT A BIT HARD TO ASSIMILATE
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I hear you have a thing with words
So I pick up your poem that's titled, 'Grief'
But the things you write sounds so absurd
I miss the point, and I start to drift

My heart aches and now I need your words
There's a healing in your words that I long to get
Words are like the sounds of music
They bringing me to moments of joy and tears

I have read your poems over and over
Not a verse in there, can heal my grief
The language; so strange
The meaning; am lost
But there's nothing more healing, I hear, than reading your poems

So now this poetry, no sense to me
My grief still here, it abates, no way
What more, do I, to find solace?
Maybe I call, so you translate?

My heart hangs to every verse you write
Not this time though, I can not connect
Over and over I read your, 'Grief'
Never to stop, till I relate?

It be that this art so strange and beautiful
But not all who have eyes can see a thing
Nor all those who have ears can hear your words
A monkey's not cute, but not so it mothers think

Beauty always, is in the eyes of the beholder!

The End

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Ian Bowen 15 July 2010

David, nice one. Much to like in your well written piece. Regards, Ian

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