Snowing-- a hiemal, deathly air
Their frigid, frostbitten fingers hold nothing
Uncomfortable silence washes over all there
A petalless, thorny rose someone is clutching
Her corpse, defunct, stiff yet motionless
Skin, once warm brown, now ghastly
Her grinning face, now emotionless
They thought she would die lastly
Life has limits, death endures eternity
From her loss, not a single tear was shed
She, a daughter, never within confraternity
No one ever cared to hear the words she said
So she lay, her arms crossed against her chest
No flowers were dropped upon her frail body
Instead, the thorny rose stabs her breast
Unhuggable cacti she could embody
On her prickly torso, blood streams
No one shall wipe liquid and spikes off
No one shall pay respect, it now seems
They simply do not really care; they scoff
So there she’ll lay, unloved and disrespected
With not blooms and gold, but many a thorn
Only snow showers her, quite expected--
That no one would dare to mourn.
Categories:
confraternity, angst, appreciation, betrayal, dark,
Form: Elegiac Lyric
A Comment is a Gift
Here we are and the holidays
approaching!
I can even vaguely hear the
reindeer bells in the air.
A poet friend started all this!
I don't know how she did it, but
indeed, she did.
I have a tiny ceramic tree already
lit sparkling right next to me.
Each comment we that do, can be
a gift.
I mean when they come from our
heart, it gives another poet a lift!
I cannot tell you how happy I am
with one of these!
They make us all happy, both you
and me!
It's an acknowledgement that
another read I or thee!
We live in this electronic age.
Some type fast as planes, some
much slower.
But we are all here at the Poetry
Holiday Ball'
So remember that a human wrote
each poem.
Do comment,if you like the poem.
Do it out of love and compassion.
A touch of love, a dash of humility,
like the very first snowfall.
So heavenly sweet and so silent,
under your feet.
A comment.... blesses all here...
An artistic and most creative
confraternity,
Contributing to humanity!
10/2/2020
4:30pm PST
Categories:
confraternity, encouraging, giving, poetry, poets,
Form: Rhyme
For all the damages
there was no pain
but for the thought,
I am the person that I was,
and knowing that I'm not....
A Wanna Be, dog-paddling
on the surface of my intellect
and decked in silence
just to play it safe.
It is a confraternity I viewed
from just a step above,
or so I thought. But now
I need not think at all.
I'm told that I can get it back.
Perhaps.
But suddenly I'm old.
There seems to be
a niche for me upon a field
of reminiscences but please,
not yet;
grant me a plow,
a whirlwind or two,
and just a touch of irony
to force a reach just past demise
into the endless now.
~
Categories:
confraternity, recovery from..., me,
Form: Free verse
I've learned to deal with funerals.
They celebrate a history both past and recent,
cementing it with closure just as earth
would close a grave.
There's not much room for victory,
despite the words of triumph in the rite.
But heroes looking at the moment
saw transcendence
at the bedside or the battlement
and drew upon resources
that they never knew they had--
not I, apart, spared from
the crisis, glory-drenched,
that turns good-bye
into transforming art.
Not I, the angel guide
to see the flight,
cold hand in mine.
It is this tiny brittle stone
in shattering
that marks the apex of a pathway
that humanity or other
walks no more.
The confraternity of those
who walked with them until the end,
alone will understand.
~
Categories:
confraternity, death,
Form: Free verse