Where Are You
I stand upon a precipice
Where once a battle raged
Between just two... the rest of us
Still searches...unassuaged...
So many questions torment me
(I should or should not done)
A constant torch of agony
Forbears a love unspun...
Still nothing fills this empty space
Where promises once were
You vanished! Gone! Without a trace!
In echoes...now you stir...
Faint silhouettes lost in the dark...
Hope's murmurings decried...
This longing bleeds without a mark
Or traces...since you died.
2.1.2017©deborah burch
Quatrain
Nightly they give thanks
With uncanny stealth they close in
By the scent of carbon dioxide
Drawn to a table
well prepared in the presence
And, of their enemy!
Endlessly raped and pillaged
In my sleepless sleep I wonder...
These gluttonous suckers
Fattened by my blood
Part of his creation
The Lord called “good”?
In pain I wince
Each fine syringe pierces
My tender flesh, deep
Irritant music in the air
On every drop they feast
Yet, thirsts unassuaged.
Once beautiful,
Smooth and hairy skin
Now badly diseased
So bitten, almost leprous
Slumberland nightly denied
By nocturnal roommates.
Tonight is of reckoning!
Doors and windows; open
In droves, welcome.
Dainty meat in abundance
In this open feast.
And with my insecticide
Vengeance will be mine!
Red flames its connotations at me
in machine-gun style as I stand apart,
gazing down upon a viscous blood
that gathers on the ground.
It darkens, as to pour
an offending brown of quasi innocence,
defiance of its claim to urgency,
though crimson petticoated ladies
scream, and stream away.
A color holds for me too much of sway
to siphon off mere brightness
from a twilight evil
just to make a point; it screams and rages,
throws romance upon a dalliance,
excites a passion far too colorless alone
to sweep a lady of the night
into the morning.
It takes its purplish and golden hues along
reluctantly. It is a prima donna
unassuaged upon its fearsome quest
to rule the sky at sunset when
those mocking soft pastels would rather
whisper their reflection of the day.
~
Oh, how's this work, how to reFrame?
The s p i n I'm in
"I hear your Name and I'm aFlame!..."
In Portraits to arabesques in Castles in Spain
And belles letteres of A. Nin
Oh, how's this work, how to reFrame?
Perhaps a chanticleer, puffed jactate, abreast of whether, vained
For thy meadowLin
"I hear your Name and I'm aFlame!..."
ReSown seeds, reap our grain
Grapes to wine, nary raisin'?
Oh, how's this work, how to reFrame?
A burning untamed
Unassuaged by Verse, unlessen'
"I hear your Name and I'm aFlame!..."
Will girasoles thrive arranged
Or Lilies' parure Daffodils akin?
Oh, how's this work, how to reFrame?
"I hear your Name and I'm aFlame!..."
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