“To be or not to be”, was Hamlet‘s sole question.
We’ve a common conundrum, that’s my confession.
Burn bridges or mend fences, in my discretion…
I stand above them, pistol heavy in my hand.
They cringe before me, she’s sobbing and he’s unmanned.
My mind’s really roiling, though my expression’s bland…
She surely did me wrong, there’s truly no dispute,
In flagrante delicto, they cannot refute.
Leaves me such a dilemma, achingly acute…
The Lord tells us “Vengeance is mine, I will repay!”
Also “to forgive is divine” didn’t he say?
How is a mere mortal to decide the right way…
But wait! “Nature weeps”, a pathetic fallacy
As “either or” is just a false dichotomy
In reality both are merely sophistry…
Should I mend the fence? Overly optimistic.
Should I burn the bridge? Aptly apocalyptic.
There is another choice, neatly nihilistic…
My attention was caught, resolution was sought.
The decision was fraught, it’s a Gordian knot
Hamlet’s vexing question solved with a single shot…
New intent nicely teased, and tension slightly eased.
My mind now appeased, prior predicament ceased
With resolve swiftly pleased - the trigger slowly squeezed…
I love poetry
Where else can tragedy
Become so achingly beautiful
Horror made ethereal
Tears like jewels
Fall musically to the floor
Even demons dance to
The rhythm you create
Nightmares shrink
Into phrases on a page
Finding haven in quatrains
Freedom in metaphors
Structure in meters
I escape into this
Fantastical world
Parallel to the harsh
Reality
I can not control
It's a slop of a silken surface
Forming that multi-faceted glaze
Can't you see?
It's been done so many times before
It's bone-achingly exhausting
What is to be done?
Nothing that can't be undone
Can you help me untwist my feet?
Go slow, slow, slow
I'm so happy
You get money to teach us
Let my ribs and the trees cage me in
I'm too afraid to speak
balance is too hard to fathom
like the word "unwanted" is on ribbon I've swallowed
choking me
as
it
melds
to
my
lungs.
Stay quiet
wait until you're wanted...
But what will it do to me?
time passes around me
birds fly
days rise and fall
I empty my mind
hold on -
stay paused.
Can you be achingly afraid?
scared to be my own demise
simply by existence.
I'll hold my tongue.
My heart is broken
too afraid to voice -
how it feels
to be quiet.
The gigantic acacia tree would testify
Were it not for savage ravages of rot
That erase feeble living things that die
After decades under sun’s missiles hot.
And the birds that chirruped and flew
About as he trudged over hill and bend
Long went like all weak beings of flight,
And no more can lasting credence lend.
If old baobab trunks had tongues that turn
Methinks they would solid testimony avail,
Of how devoutly he toiled in dews and sun
And never refrained from heaven-sent toils.
But since baobab trunks unspeaking are
And birds such fleeting breaths have they,
Can cold unfeeling stones their version say:
Tell how over them hopped he on his way?
Though villainous eyes those labors saw,
Witnessing their tireless winds and turns;
None would ranks of vile ignominy break
And end this betrayal that achingly burns.
And for want of witness this sobbing soul
Perishes and dissolves like a soaking loaf
Amid bootless heavens’ amnesic lethargy,
As cruel decades to a rude century morph.
My heart is always willingly, patiently waiting
For the life I think you and I will be creating.
But my mind is going stir-crazy wondering
When it is the next time you will be coming.
My soul is knowingly, faithfully waiting
For your further, deepening awakening.
But my ego is desperately reaching
For your affectionate acknowledging.
My body is longingly, achingly waiting
For an embrace that is so tenderly soothing.
But my being feels your own soul lingering
In my room, beyond an illusion that is fading.
My heart patiently paints a future so loving,
For you're the one for which I was searching.
But my mind's always impatiently crying
For our life I see: a life finally worth living.
The world is achingly beautiful,
Yet man walks burdened in pain.
Though born to be free and dutiful,
Everywhere, he’s bound by chains.
In a world that rushes blindly,
Man must learn to wait—
To face life’s questions quietly,
Through error, fate, and weight.
Life is a path of struggle,
A climb through joy and sorrow,
A journey marked by trials,
With dreams we chase tomorrow.
Through anguish, doubt, and fear,
He presses on each night,
No sword or shield in hand—
Just will, and silent fight.
It’s a war for the strongest,
A test of heart and mind.
Believe in who you are—
Don’t leave your strength behind.
The world is hard, yet wonderful,
A place of shade and light.
So rise again, keep walking—
Your spirit is your might.
As You Get Achingly Older
The Energy It Takes For
Tedium Hurts More Than
The Time It Wastes/Saves.
BANK!
-Gray Squirrel
08-28-2025
For the strong ones — on their stay-in-bed days.
© Gabrielle Munslow 2025. All rights reserved.
I think I’d just like to be —
No noise in my head.
The TV on standby.
Radio not transmitting.
The dog forgetting his bark.
The tears unshed.
Just leave me in bed.
My whole psyche ashes away,
aching from absorbing prophetic punches.
I changed the trajectory of my life —
now I need to be achingly numb.
No words.
No prayers.
No petty arguments or poetry.
Just me.
Hair like a banshee,
mascara matching my disillusionment.
I wear my apathy like a medal —
nauseatingly won.
Let the world knock,
let the day stretch open.
I won’t rise.
I’ve already fought
too many mornings.
But don’t mistake my silence
for defeat —
I am not broken.
I’m just choosing not to speak
while I sharpen my teeth.
My mind is a raging storm
Of never ending thoughts
And constant 'what if's
That chase away dreams
And plague the mind.
Not a day goes by
That you are never there,
You've come to occupy the space
As though it were your own.
And through every tear,
Heartache and moment of pain,
Just know the day
I reach Heaven
If I am so allowed,
You are the first
I will come to find.
And though time will heal,
It will never repair
As achingly beautiful
As life tries to be,
Know I cannot wait
To be reunited with you.
"The clouds parted like the pursed lips of desire,"
drawing an ambience for dreamers to dream
with watercolor whispers and acrylic zen ~
amorous, magnetic, and achingly alluring,
dusted in mauve-winged wishes,
as the moon’s crown sparkled in gold…
O beloved crescent ~ that stirs my ink,
love me like sultry sea waves,
rippling through Cupid’s veil ~
a surreal sketch of sunset soulmates,
destined to dance beyond time’s thistles,
oblivious to the jades of jealousy.
Meet me where memories fade,
and pain is an unfamiliar poem,
for I wear your love-stained letters ~
breathless, spellbound, and intoxicated
by the scent of handwritten heartbeats…
But if stars could sing, and dusk could speak,
would you heed the tunes of twilight,
like rain tracing fire along your skin,
while night hangs silent, and the breeze unfurls~
a ballet of butterflies in sync,
with the pulse and kiss of lunar lace…
Achingly slow the way that we kissed,
enjoying the entrapment we laid in.
You commemorated this with cursive.
The soft swirl and soft hand of cursive
matched us as the paper was kissed.
Italics bold as your tongue trucked in.
It was comforting how you creeped in
with flirtation flowing in pristine cursive.
Immortality penned the way you kissed.
A love letter french kissed in cursive.
such artistry, tied to two trees
background of a neighbor’s house
which one is mere majestic
you’d say unhesitatingly, the web
but did you know my neighbor
they shingled and painted
their whole house themselves
it was something else
you’d look at it and think
it’s boring brown, but
I see deeper into their lot
the spider’d disagree
my analysis is persistently
annoying because her web
appears as a soccer net
or football for those nuts
in the UK - don’t disparage
you say - but they are nuts
for football, aren’t they
the world wide web would AI
something achingly intricate
but it needs to mind its own
because we all find in small things
something quite beautiful
case in point, fireworks I couldn’t see
but I could hear the one’s next door
as I sat outdoors (and the only time
this year) I saw, lit up like a gathering
of fairies, in my little woods, fireflies
don’t argue, just nod, nod off
and be human instead
Petals and the Full Moon,
peppered with flakes of stars;
Wishes become cobwebs,
children no longer hum;
Growing up? Belief ebbs.
Petals and the Full Moon;
After achingly long,
lovers find an embrace;
Swaying in reflection,
the sea gives in to chase.
Petals and the Full Moon,
lost in the ambience
romantic wheel in drive;
Restless fuse of rapture,
a perfect match will thrive.
Sitting in his favourite cafe
Latte in hand
Engrossed in the words
In his familiar newspaper land
Startled by a loud rumble
Dark clouds loomed above
The heavens suddenly opened
His thoughts turned to his true love
She was a free spirit
He was conservative
Their differences worked beautifully
Compromise and consideration being the alternative
She loved the rain and how it made her feel
She was at one with the rain
She showed him how to embrace it
He never viewed the rain the same
A lifetime together walking in the rain
Playful they laughed and danced
They swam in the wild raw ocean
A time of precious love and romance
He achingly missed her
Though felt blessed to have had those years
She was and will always be his one and only
His memories welled his eyes with tears
Jolted back to reality
Composed once again
With a smile and a happy heart
He stepped out into the pouring rain
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