Deborah Guenther Beachboard Poet Free verse

Suicide Note

All things have fallen to the wayside
And I cannot bring myself to go beyond the front door

The coffee table is messy with unopened mail 
And haphazard cigarette ash

Dusty knickknacks are silent and undemanding 
Each with its own place on the shelf

The past is nonsense, the present is nonsense
This life makes no sense

Breathe in breathe out don't breathe
Death is the only sensation ... cessation....

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Line Gauthier April 16, 2018 at 3:13 PM This is an awesome poem from the perspective of a poet catching a moment of desperation. I think, if I can generalize, a poet's life is all about renewals.

Maureen McGreavy Pigeon Tart April 16, 2018 at 2:17 PM The contemplation of suicide, this I believe is the one thing that most sets us apart from all other life on this planet. Original, touching, relatable piece Deborah. Hugs mo

Susan Ashley April 16, 2018 at 2:08 PM Deborah, the emotional intensity of your poem reaches into the heart of me and deeply moves me with the stirring sadness that saturates your despairing sentiments. Beautifully expressed though woeful..