Silent is My Soul
During out Walt Whitman unit, my teacher had us go through his poems and take lines we liked and make a poem out of them. This is the result:
O within this tomb,
Silent is my soul,
’Twas a promise sworn by royal lips and broken and laugh’d
Who were hateful to me and mocked me;
I sought revenge
The heads of the noble feel
O the bleeding drops of red!
fallen and cold.
I was to wait for my sentence,
Exhibited by death.
Hark! A voice from Death, solemn and strange,
“I, Death, still live, still utter words.”
But silent is my soul.