Poem, "Slow"

           In the past, I have written poetry on this blog.  Sometimes I take poems I find on the Poetry foundation and rewrite them, write a response to them, or just wreck them, as I don't know anything about poetry.  Today I drew inspiration from the Poem, "Now the Slow Blood" by Robert Fernandez to create my own little poem.

           Feel free to tell me what you think.


Slow

Slow the flow of rain.

Now the voice drops lower.

Glow narrow bolt of light.

Below the blood runs colder.

Low below the grass it stiffens.

Now the voice is slower:

Cold light casts thru showers.

Old joints of a church goer.

Slow the sound as thru cotton.

Slow muffled words gathered, gotten.

Old Scratch, near marker standing,

His finger, slowly curls, enticing,

Smile, bright, wide, inviting.

Slow is the idea creeping in the mind.

Slow does the thought grow.

Slow to open eyes, no longer blind.

Slow comes resignation, sorrow.

Not to heaven, no, not there

Old joints, bad soul, down, down there.

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