Vows that were meant till our dieing days.suffer in the outcome of your deceitful ways.the depth of gut wrenching instinct a bond that's shattered never to be relinked. So its sinking in realisation of what's coming its hitting me full force and I can't stop running.results that end in years of lies sucked in again with your repeated disguise .dreams that turn into dust .reality when its not love without your sacred trust.like a single tear that keeps on pouring .sea of hurt two soul mates in mourning. Goodbye my best friend I'll miss you more than life .a future you chose without me as your wife
Copyright © Danielle Waddell | Year Posted 2016
Melting fears
I pray the lord my soul to take .before the nightmares my memories make .hell had no fury .fate is scorned .futures are scattered and the present is mourned. Anger burns .confusion on replay .pain waves goodbye them decides to stay .ashes to ashes Dust to dust .there goes my love along with my trust. Wind whispers my thoughts Starts with the rain .always a storm forever insane .emotions like a zip that merge into one .if I was your ice you'd be my sun.misery kidnaps my happiness is judged with no glory .once upon a time faith wrote my story
Copyright © Danielle Waddell | Year Posted 2016
Kathrene Waddell
1899-1921
Truth be known,
I married my man too young.
Truth be known,
I jumped into the warm waters of mad love,
Not able to navigate its crazy rushing currents.
I sought to understand the pangs of passion,
The wantonness of a grown woman,
While but a girl still.
“Wisely and slow. They stumble that run fast.”
Truth be known,
I passionately loved and loathed my man,
But then he died and I found another…
Another soothing caressing fondling man,
Shhh!
Dour Mr White,
Dour undertaker man in black suit,
He who found my inherent pulchritude
On the embalming table there,
Downstairs in the chemical darkness of repeating death,
He who found my singing soul,
My sunken yearning unseeing eyes,
My cold gray kissless lips,
There amidst the formaldehyde bottles, and
The wilting scented daydream tulips.
And oh, the way he brushed my hair!
So tenderly, so lovingly!
Frederick Waddell
1893-1919
Kathrene Mary cojoled me not to blush.
Blush as red as a boiled lobster.
Kathrene Mary insisted that I not touch.
Touch and grope as a feathered Jove.
In the eternal equinox of April evening,
She gave me a signet ring,
With my initial engraved thereto,
As a token of our tryst together.
“W” reminded me of her,
Her voluptuous facade,
Her voluminous assemblage,
Her robust vanguard,
Of desious daydreams in the suave shadows,
Of amazing nocturnal delights,
Of lickerish ravishments and
Private investigations,
In the astonishing membranes
Of abject titillation.
But let it be known:
I died devastated,
Devastated that I never beheld
My sweet son and daughter,
Devastated that I never beheld
The sagging bosom of old age.
And now here in my grave,
I blush for the worms.
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