Details |
Rache Hewett Poem
Poem Date - 16.08.19
Throwing down this vodka, as if there would be no tomorrow, Tears rolling down my cheeks, as I stand consumed by sorrow.
No one to make the small talk, they’re all out dancing, having fun…And once again, sat in isolation, like the bystander I’ve become.
So scared of my own shadow, and locked inside this shell. I never realised I could feel so lost yet find myself, in such a living hell.
Staring at the bottom of this bottle, knowing I shouldn’t want more. If I had the motivation, but I can’t pick myself up from the floor.
The tv’s screens all blurry, the rooms spinning like a merry go round. The phone’s a poor companion, as I scream devoid of sound.
No more coke left in the fridge and staring at the bottom of this glass…I realise I’m actually rock bottom, seriously really on my ass.
No one here to make the small talk, No one to wipe these tears. No one here to wrap an arm around me, to scare away my fears.
Throwing down the last of the vodka, I sink into this precipice. Shrouded in this darkness, I resign myself to this abyss.
Copyright © Rachael Hewett | Year Posted 2019
|
Details |
Rache Hewett Poem
Dancing in the shadows, fallen angel of the night, accepted by the darkness when abandoned by the light.
Embraced by its desire, darkest delight pulling her near, in the arms of blind divinity, a heartbeat only she can hear.
Fire in her veins, she breathes life unto the dead, shrouded in the passion of being shamefully misled,
Fallen angel of the night, her psalm upon the midnight air, animated effervescence captured in a vacant stare.
Dancing in the shadows, fallen angel of the night, accepted by the darkness when abandoned by the light,
Embraced by its desire, yet upon her a cheek a single tear, still bathing in divinity to a heartbeat only she can hear.
Copyright © Rachael Hewett | Year Posted 2012
|
Details |
Rache Hewett Poem
Life can only be understood backwards and yet we must live it forwards.
Such a confusing analogy that could leave your head spinning relentlessly crazy.
And yet our desperation to resolve the riddles that plague us on every occasion,
Can merge appearance and reality, into a mist that seems a kind of hazy.
We cannot change upon reflection and regrets are a waste of time.
Yet lessons can be learnt if contemplating honestly what has resulted in this space.
Prevention a cure, not always an option considering the trials and tribulations,
Incredulous variations hurled at a mind-boggling alarming pace.
So with all the reverse psychology comes procrastination of course,
Another futile action that produces no positive results for one and all.
And yet our desperation to fix what we perceive as broken form words not actions,
That bring us this reoccurring turmoil resulting in this consequential catastrophic fall.
And so I wonder is there any point in attempting to comprehend our circumstances,
When our perspective on the analogy is without doubt, twisted and selfishly flawed.
Maybe this adventure is not for us to question or fathom its underlining reason,
But an invitation to play, not our need for a recognised performance to applaud
Copyright © Rachael Hewett | Year Posted 2019
|