Loss Sestina Poems

How to Feel When Your House Burns Down
The home you are raised in is a mother tongue. 
I was four when it was built, an...

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Fox Hunting

She turns tail to snake through the dust,
parting orderly heads of corn,
breathing heat and eating dark
On her way to escape—she hopes—
from the fox chasing...

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If I should reach out, will you take my hand,
and hold me ‘til I reach that promised land?
Will you stay with me after tears have...

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Long ago, before she was ever hunted by the beast,
She had only drank from the cool river of freedom.
One fateful day it happened; she was...

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Broken but disbelieving, we wait   
for any doctor to say it’s just blood
as the gray man greens, throws-
up in triage. A Goth teen...

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In those very few moments just before rising,
my Mind is busy with things that must be done,
as it plans the day ahead and organizes my...

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As my finger, triggers the sound
My heart ululates, in intoxication
Remembrance, is a gift in itself
Indescribable feelings, leading me forward
Being described, through each line I hear
Nostalgia,...

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On the night stand, 
swimming in colors,
a jewel box once full;
now empty.
My blood runs cold, 
as I mourn the theft of a treasured pin.

An Heirloom...

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Drought cooks a garden; 
foliage’s veins and arteries burn.
One wonders if rain will return; 
the ground, an abstract of cracks.
Baked by the sunlight, 
plants retreat;...

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The day’s beginning is a special gift.
Given over a life’s eternity,
One can’t help but feel the daily change.
How often we stay into the evening. ...

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This poem is written in the Sestina form.




Raw Emotion

Under the cloak of anger,
In a world full of despair,
Surrounded by misery and pain,
Engulfed in darkness,
Loss of...

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A full heart chokes
too full to feel
anything but broken.
Seems all is lost
and only phantoms linger
must I remain?

A hollow husk, a remnant
yet, engorged and choking 
on...

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Here in the heavy depths of insolent woes,
We gesture and talk and waste our time,
Staking claim to each minute of our earthly life,
Running the hours...

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In the company of a mouthful of silence, 
I resort to chattering with the wind; 
Whose carefree fingers grace the freezing leaves, 
That once were...

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Like a penny, lost and worthless, woman
mother, and buried within the origin pit, dark
she brought me like a Jezebel into her life of mourning
mistress of...

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