Judgment Day Poem by Kelly Vinal
Judgment Day
A tired man rests at the foot of his grave
To watch as the stone tracks the dying sun’s rays
And his back is arched and his tongue is dried as he shouts up to the sky
But a fiend in a sin shall exist in his rage
To ponder the pain of the choices he’s made
Now they’ve clipped his wings and blinded his eyes as he comes into the night
Ah the birds of July, he recalls, in the oaks
And the dance of the girls on the flowering slopes
And the words as they leapt up off the yellowing page
Now fading as they die
A feeble man lies at the end of his grave
On the dirt that he plied with a rusting spade
And he jingles his chains in the mists of the night as he prays up to the sky
But a fiend in a sin shall persist in his hate
And his judgment will come on decisions made
Now they’ve broken his wings and blistered his eyes as he welcomes in the night
Ah the birds of July, he recalls, in the oaks
And the dance of the girls on the flowering slopes
And the words as they leapt up off the yellowing page
Now fading as they die
Very captive of emotion that is rising as the time goes bye. I like the word use and the rhythm, it captures the feeling that is expressed in the poem, good job!
trully fantastic i only hope one day i will be able to write something so good
The rhythm is fantastic! If you were a girl I would volunteer to hold your hand and be swept up in the march that this rhythm prescribes.You have managed to say it all AND maintain technical perfection. You are talking to someone who appreciates the difficulty of this. Superlative work that entices me to be, if I must be a spectator, at least to be one that is close to the action.In a few lines you create a realistic world. H
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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11/3/2025 6:01:19 PM # 1.0.0
No commentor gives an interpretation of the work. I was captured by it and felt as an exhausted being shouting to the sky, in pain and enraged, and who had just buried a friend and recalls the sounds of the ID chains and in escapism recalls, the treasures of home. I would like to read other interpretations. This work enthralled me.