Details |
Emily Rose Poem
An icy breeze runs briskly through my branches.
Branches once adorned with luscious green needles
Now charcoal black and broken, growth given no chances.
I shudder and reminisce when my branches stood like steeples,
When I thrived in a coat of green, not a barren limb.
I was warm enough on my own, then.
Mighty eagles found solace in my awning,
I was such a thing of beauty, I was desirable.
Little children climbed upon me and found my presence calming
They’d rest their heads against me, always quite adorable.
Why couldn’t have I been content with dependable eagles?
Why did I find it exciting, the danger and warmth of fire?
How it glowed, like a beacon, drawing my attention.
Sister trees cried of how it burned, how it killed.
I was ignorantly mesmerized, they watched with apprehension.
With its overwhelming warmth I longed to be filled.
I should have listened to my experienced kin.
I was warm enough on my own, then.
I called out to its embers, in my rich coat of green.
Soon enough, into my unscathed grove it came.
I assumed it was my virtue that the fire had seen,
But, truth be told, it only sought to set ablaze my frame.
The warmth was thrilling, at first touch
It held me so gently, I could hardly feel its clutch.
Then, spreading through my branches and up my back,
I felt the first twinges of pain, confusion, fear.
Flames distorted my coat from green to brown to black.
To my horror it fell to my feet. I wished that from me the fire would veer.
It burned me, scorched me, defiled me.
I loathed the way I had longed for it to touch me.
Cold, barren, and ashamed I stood.
My frame, hanging, broken and abused.
It's humiliating that only then I understood,
Discontent with what you have will only leave you bruised.
Now I must sit, blackened in my glen
Remembering how warm I was, back then.
Copyright © Emily Rose | Year Posted 2023
|
Details |
Emily Rose Poem
Three-hundred milligrams
Approximately one-hundredth of a fluid ounce
Three-hundred milligrams of water a day, I’d die
Three-hundred milligrams of caffeine after three
I find myself staying up all night
Thinking of you.
What else is there to think of?
How something measured in milligrams
Could have such an effect on my state
Causing me to think in anagrams
Like what my life would be like if we didn’t meet
The letters would all be jumbled
Nonsense, no rhyme or reason.
Maybe I should try to sleep instead of imagining you cheating.
I think of how I’d react if I found you in such a state
But I am well aware that it would never happen
But…
but…
but… if it did
I’d definitely punch you square in the face
Then cry like a child lost in Target
As their most beloved has gone missing.
Even if you left me, you would never really go.
I dream of you once the caffeine wears off
Even if you lived three million miles away
You’d still be here with me
Its as if you have your own special compartment in my brain
Your own chamber in my heart
The impression you have left on my soul could never depart.
I wonder if I have left such a mark.
This poem doesn’t really reek of poetry
Probably because its two in the morning
Three-hundred milligrams still in my system
But I was thinking that if I wrote these caffeine inspired ponderings
Then maybe, just maybe
You’d see how much you mean to me.
Okay, I’m ready to go to sleep. I think…
Copyright © Emily Rose | Year Posted 2023
|