Poetry
Poetry
Only my poetry.
I am a part of a writing community on Twitter. There we write, are poets and encourage each other.
This is my poetry page.
Corbeau
I feel so conflicted some days.
Sometimes I am awash of different emotions ensnared with grief, guilt and then numbness.
It steams my soul and I project anger like a flaming torch into the night sky.
I feel my throat tightening up and gasp for air to try to let out a scream, but nothing happens.
I fall to my knees now covered in a thick cloud strangling my neck.
My fists pound the soft earth, who always waits for me with opened arms and warmth.
Never does she reject.
Digging my fingernails
Clawing the wet skin, she doesn’t hate me for it.
She encourages me.
Bleed into me she says, I am becoming you to release that torturedness.
My face is wet with hot sweat and tears, lined with her own blood
Black, gritty, and smelling sweet.
I am spent
We lay together now, my tears come fully, flowing freely.
As I lay on my back in this ethereal state.
She whispers, it’s ok my darling this is what I’m here for. Close your eyes and fall back into my arms, for nothing can reach you now.
In my protected place.
Gently she caresses me into a soft lull.
Breathing quietly with the faint scent of her all over my face.
I’m gone into quiet peace, to gather my soul and start again.
©shassyswalkabout.com
Gone
Her tiny fingers opened
To grasp the fresh new world
With innocence and delight.
Her grown up fingers waited
To only find a fight.
Her old fingers grew tired
Reaching for her plight.
Her withered fingers soon closed
As she gave in to the night.
Her renewed fingers now filled
To see a brand new light.
She fought with all her power
All throughout her life.
She couldn’t find peace on earth
She tried with all her might.
Now she flies with the wind
Free from pain and fright.
Her sorrow has left her
As she is filled with sweet delight.
No more tears are shed
As she has left this conflicting life.
Reunited now with the universe
No breath need be taken.
Her mind is free from shackles
And her soul has been awakened.
She’s free to roam and found a home
Without the scars that bind.
Her life was short with no retort
She did the best she could with no consort.
Her heart is no longer broken
As it was nothing but a token.
Her body gone to dust
A fleeting cusp
No longer to be woken.
Blurry scenes behind the eyes.
Foggy feelings of..
“Are they true?”
Is the mind playing tricks?
Outside ticks
Fleeting rhyme
Falling trips
Reality slips
Clawing grips
Finally ending this clip
Replaying like a mime.
This haunt has ceased.
It’s peace.
Released.
Dripping wounds red
Rain
Would’ve thought, clean
It brings pain.
The Fare
Unfelt fears
These are the things that she ruminates some days
Deep down these feelings go
Into a place filled with caverns
And hollow sounding walls.
It’s not cold here, or hot,
It’s nothing, yet it’s filled with sorrow.
The kind that makes her hold her breath.
The darkness envelopes in a quiet, nurturing voiceless swirl of unspoken feeling.
As if to say
“You’re back, my love, I’ve missed you so, where have you been?”.
She just lays there now, eyes closed not fighting with him.
“I’m here” she responds,
I’m always here.
In this place of nothingness
Where the air is sweet and the mind is foggy.
She slips farther back on a wisp of swirling air.
This is it, this is where
Her heart can rest from another fare.
There’s a price to be paid, and each time, she must pay it.
Rest now, quiet your fears,
Wipe your tears.
Loneliness spiny fingers
Encase the form that once was.
Where sunlights light once shown
Now slowly breathes a rot,
Not that of hatred
But of not.
Of things seen once shown
Some of longing, most of life grown.
Loneliness caresses her with care,
Knowing that it’s not a want.
Stealing space within the air
Gently manifesting it’s well worn, but affective snare,
To teach her how to love
Love a loneliness.
She doesn’t understand the prickly hot fire,
The feeling is not what it should be.
Confusing and ripped into pieces
She touches her sliced open chest,
Muscle slippery shiny red and wet,
A slight soft quiver is felt under skin
She smooths it, perplexed.
As a whisp of spring breeze alights on her face.
And cools that open wound still bleeding.
Then as if there was an absence of all knowledge,
A small sinew of warm thread
Sews up burning embers
She watches, waits.
There is no more.
Loneliness apologizes for its abrupt demanding transition.
It’s become her healing catalyst now.
He’s not her fiery enemy anymore,
He’s now her renewal freedom from chains past scars
She embraces him- happy for the growth.
From crippling death rattle
To newborn gulps of fresh life,
Like fragrant rose petals
And tender young sprouts searching for their sunlight.
Fresh and new and reborn.
Loneliness isn’t so bad, she muses
He’s taught her how to breath again.
And live.
Laying down in soft warm grass
She breathes in, and smiles.
Thank you, she whispers out into the air,
It’s over, she sleeps in that eternal wave of comfort
Not strangled by him anymore, but embracing,longing, loving.
Knowing.
Sting Me Again
I hate you for the bleeding you caused, for the necrotizing wash you poured over my soul.
I hate you for castrating my veins, for the wilt that you caused within my mind and over my body.
I hate you for leaving me, for beating me for making me feel like I wasn’t worthy of love, for telling me that my sorrow wasn’t real, for the peel, the smell, the well.
I hate you for stealing my youth, for pulling it slowly, carelessly from the underbelly of your own selfishness.
I hate that I hate, it’s not compromising, or shining or sweet.
Sometimes in my weeping and tears, I allow myself to think the meat, you dead…but not completely, you suffering in your own shit, breathing it and stuck, laying in a rut.
I must break free of this leech that drags me. I must.
All poetry or writing is copyrighted ©shassyswalkabout.com
publish poetry online get paid poetry manuscript submissions 2022 poetry magazines accepting submissions the new yorker poetry submissions
Here is my link to get to Medium.
Singe
Sing me freedom
Escape into the willows
Breath life again
As it was.
Refreshed and new.
Bring me petals and put upon
My tongue the nectar,
Sweet honeysuckle.
Fragrance me with rose
Slight my hair with soft breezes
I see yet the sunlight
Once again.
Here’s a Story 