Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2011

The Vacant Heart

by Mathew Britten

It is the vacant heart that beats...beats...beats,
Intensifies in my sleep,
The love that turned her soft red cheek,
Forever mine in my dreams,
But my vacant heart still weeps ...weeps...weeps,
It aches and roars as it's tears pour,
The scars of a broken heart begin to tear apart.
My empty soul paces the dark corridor,
Of my vacant heart, it echoes ...echoes...echoes,
The river still flows, soothing the aching pain,
The curtain in the corridor of my heart billows
 Cold chills infect the air,
Of my vacant heart, it cries...cries...cries,
The piercing of her hazel eyes,
Sleeping in her secure arms, time flies.
Shadowed by my growing fears, the ageing grandfather clock whirs,
In the centre of my vacant heart, it whirs...whirs...whirs,
Around her slender neck, the most elegant furs, 
But my heart still burns in the wake of her heinous curse,
80 beats a minute, each more painful than the last,
In the engine of my vacant heart, it beats...beats...beats,
In its final hours it weakens in my heavy chest,
The last roar a dwindling flame, a dimming ember,
An image of the lover’s soft red cheeks,
Projected in my vacant heart, it fades...fades...fades.

Added: 03.03.2011

Judges' comments on this poem


I really liked the theme of the poem, but sometimes the rhyming pattern or irregular line pattern jarred the flow of reading slightly.