Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

His Last Words

by David Swan

He hung there like a fake Rembrandt,
Beautiful but false.
His slender arms stretched like
Twisted towels,
His legs delicately crossed.
The beauty of his body raised before me;
An unwilling shroud.
 
The blood from his forehead
Moistened his lips as he raised his head
And said to me,
'God is dead ! God is dead !
Tell the people so.
Your future dies with me,
Your father never was,
And your prayers remain unanswered,
Just lonely echo’s in a forest of silence'.

Added: 25.01.2011

Judges' comments on this poem

04.05.2011

Second verse "God is dead" is very powerful coming from a presumed Christ on a cross. I like the power.

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