Graffiti Wall

A continuously updated space full of prose, poetry, and original forms of creative expression.

The following poems were actually the results of an assignment for a creative writing class I took during my senior year in undergrad. The poem titled, “Anathema” is a testament to the dreary images of Chernobyl. If you don’t know what Chernobyl is, go googling and you’ll see how the poem captures the essence of the place. As for, “Wages of War”, the harshness of war is the focus. I believe the words pretty much speak for themselves. And last but not least, there is “Clutch”, which is an ode to one of the most amazing finishes in all of professional sports. It is based on a play many sports enthusiasts have come to know as The Immaculate Reception. Enjoy!

Anathema

Anathema, hideous abhorrence.
Crumbling, revolting, ugly monument.
Progeny of careless indifference
Lifeless, empty, terrible testament

Skies dreary complementing buildings gray
Silence screams of a better day
Ghost roam barren streets as dark shadows play
Tragic symphonies of dreams once gay

This Slavic memory, not forgotten
Of deadly clouds, putrid and thick, large and rotten.
The demon who breathed Promethean flame
Sleeps entombed, welded shut in metal frame

Wages of War

As we descend upon this foreign land,
I wonder about the perils close at hand.
Unknown to me is a terrible fate,
In a battle whose master is nothing but hate

Demon of war, devourer of souls,
God of tragedy, talisman of woes,
What do we gain by murdering our foes?

They say we stand on a precipice of victory.
But what worth is triumph, if we cease to be?
When home is a sight, we will never again see

Am I destined for the fields of Elysium
That desirous end for exemplars of heroism?
Or is my dream of eternity,
Nothing more than a caustic fallacy?

Clutch

Spirits are brittle and hope is dismal.
As seconds dwindle, warriors struggle.
Heroes stumble and emotions bristle.
A pigskin flutters, as bodies crumble.

A freak occurrence, a twist of fate,
A doubtful victory, forever great.
A certain defeat that triumph abates,
A miraculous catch, makes crowds elate.

The champion’s stride is alive with pride,
Whom Nike blesses with generous aye.
Doubts are belied, a challenge is defied,
As winners emerge and opponent’s sigh.

It’s amusing at the places you find yourself when your muse decides to visit you. This next piece was composed while waiting around at a metro station. I hope you enjoy this poem as much as I did creating it.

Seasonal

It feels as if summer just sighed.
But her please breath is not to be relied.
For unforgiving winter makes her a bride.
He smothers her with cold,
Making leaves dried.
Their spawn is autumn,
Whispering in the wind.
As she spells the beginning,
Another year’s end.

Below is a basic series of photographs of the DC metro. For those of you from DC, you already know. For those not from here, I hope this gives you a feel for how the area the metro is.


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