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Luke Castellan Poem
At the end of the weekend,
I came home.
But you weren't there,
as I hoped...
When I asked my mom,
a tear fell to her phone.
that's when i knew-
Something's definitely wrong.
I left her, alone,
on the dark colored couch.
I searched everywhere,
that you loved to roam.
From time to time,
I thought I heard,
your cheerful bark...
I convinced myself,
I'm hearing your sleepy groan.
But that was all...
I myself knew, i was wrong.
Yet--I wasn't ready to mourn.
From night to noon, evening to morn,
I was hoping your return,
to my sorrowful mood.
But instead of that,
came the smell.
Sharp and sudden,
strong and brutal.
'Feel that smell? your dog is dead.'
Voices echoed, in my empty head.
I answered them:
"That, is smell of decaying.
My dog, he smells different...
Nothing like this."
Copyright © Luke Castellan | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Luke Castellan Poem
A hoarse whisper, at 2.49 a.m.
"It's over-it's over- it's-"
There, he is,
in his dark bedroom,
eyes wide open, but seeing nothing.
Fists clenched with sheets, and nails sunk to the skin.
He mutters it, to the locked bedroom door,
as if it's someone who's listening
to his confession, sorrow.
2.50 it is.
A tear, dull and frozen,
falls from his left eye,
just to land on his shaking upper lip.
"It's over- it's over- it's-"
his hair, wet with sweat,
voice rasp with dread,
with a broken throat and a heart,
he mutters the same,
again and again,
in same pain,
same tone,
to the same silent wall.
His over bitten lip,
now glistening in red.
Iron and salt,
mixed in pain.
He feels it.
He cries, finally....
There, 2.55, sleep is crawling,
not a fitful one, shaking, he falls asleep.
3.00 a.m. it is.
DANG!-the alarm..
He wakes up, again.
Just to begin another day of hiding the suffering,
and suffering from hiding.
Copyright © Luke Castellan | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Luke Castellan Poem
she’s soft as silk,
fragile as glass…
will she survive?
ah! fear not—
she had given birth
to a thousand, thousand men
who have empathy instead of blood,
courage to rise from mud.
dear gods!
we tried, we prayed…
yet no mercy received,
no shelters are served.
yes, we are struggling,
sinking in this cursed water,
drowning in the deepest gutters.
yes, our women are crying,
but no one falls apart.
their tears wipe the dirt
this storm brought to the hearts.
no one will fall,
though we all suffer.
no one will tremble at death,
no begging they mutter.
we rise, slowly but strong,
holding hands,
of both weak and bold,
for our mother…
our mother.
she is waiting.
Copyright © Luke Castellan | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Luke Castellan Poem
Streets, dark and long-
that's all I see...
No destination, walking alone.
No hands grabbing me,
no tied ropes to my bones...
they just let me, wander free,
knowing every ending will make me mourn.
Copyright © Luke Castellan | Year Posted 2025
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