The wretched bow their head
As they shuffle along unled
Lost to the world without souls
No longer counted or enrolled
Once they looked you in the eye
Their knowledge gained held high
But now beaten down instead
Their only world now full of dread
Who now will take up their fight
Going forward with the right
They wait for a leader to rise for them
For it is unknown how it will end.
© Paul Warren Poetry
In cogs and gears, her heart does beat,
A clockwork girl, both strange and sweet.
Her eyes, like polished brass, aglow,
Reflect the time, the world below.
With gears that click and springs that chime,
She measures moments, day and time.
A copper bodice, sleek and tight,
Holds secrets in the fading light.
Her hands, of bronze, a delicate dance,
Point to the hours, a fleeting glance.
A winding key, a silver thread,
Keeps her ticking, unsaid, unled.
Amidst the steam and smoke-filled air,
A whisper of her presence, rare.
The city's pulse, she knows it well,
Her clockwork heart, a silent spell.
But in her gaze, a sadness hides,
A yearning for the world outside.
To feel the warmth, the human touch,
Beyond the gears, beyond the clutch.
For though she runs, on time's own whim,
A part of her, forever dim,
Yearns for a soul, a beating heart,
To break free, from the clockwork art.
If
“Condemned To Be Free”
as Sartre said,
Then
doom me forever
—unchained and unled
(Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania: February, 2021)
We walked the road of a love that never broke,
we talked of the dreams we held as we grew old,
we stayed on a trail that sisters always follow,
but the road ended and the story was left untold.
The end of the road came before it even began,
the bridge fell into pieces while trying to cross,
she stood at that cliff of sanity and jumped down,
and now my life has been full of sorrow and loss.
Her farewell letter spoke of pain and remorse,
her addiction too strong, her self-control weak,
“Goodbye, dear sister I’ll always love you”,
and since I read those words I cannot speak.
Stagnant in the middle of a path left unled,
bleeding salt left over from her eyes long ago,
I sit on the sidewalk watching cars drive by,
and within six years I have not yet let go.
We walked the road of love that finally stopped,
it ended the day she took her final breath,
I walked away that day and waved where she laid,
and can’t step foot on that road since her death.
End of the Road Contest
December 30, 2016
Demonic voices
In your head
led you in
direction
fled
In your action
blood, thirst
red
Never knowing
what they said
misinterpreted
read
thought your
path was
unled
Her energetically youthful joints bounce
To the beat
Her belly baby bump doesn't slow her down
She sings the lyrics of the Lord's love
Hiding her truth
To prevent his second murder
No blood on her hands
He'll spend time behind bars
And she'll build her life holding her daughter
Up to the sun
She'll marry
And live
And her baby daughter, answered prayer,
Will share
Poetry with the world
But these women will still mourn
One in sorrow for her choice
And one in guilt for the life of a older sibling unled
And yet the baby girl loves God
And freedom
Equally
How can she be pro choice?
She knows what it means to be
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