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Amy Ohare Poem
What can you remember from childhood?
The memory of friends still haunt.
Being lonely and an outcast, I created my own.
One in particular, not really a friend;
I found out too late.
First there were games and fun,
Secrets that no one would ever know.
Then those games turned into danger and unimaginable terror.
I told myself that he was mine and of me,
So there was no way he could hurt; I was wrong.
I made my escape, but others were not so lucky.
I found happiness and love again;
Expecting children of my own.
They will never know my pain,
Nor feel the misery for themselves.
But…
He watches and waits.
Copyright © Amy Ohare | Year Posted 2015
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Amy Ohare Poem
Suffering torments a miserable life
Depression is the decay of the soul
The divine pain; abort with the midwife
Hopeless despair punctures a vast black hole
Choosing a method; entrusting myself
Letting the blood exhaust and fall away
At long last, bid humanity farewell
So gentle in peaceful silence I stray
The sweet waves of blackness swallow my pain
Tender oblivion; I grant nothing
Cold hug of solitude fades in the rain
All abandon with the touch of a wing
Alas, I am snatched back to existence
These arms cannot speak to my persistence
Copyright © Amy Ohare | Year Posted 2015
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Amy Ohare Poem
My memories flood when thinking of you,
Like the savage tide crashing against rock.
On the brink, the black abyss I withdrew,
Flight for a darkened soul, my spirit walks.
The pain and pleasure, soul suffering ache,
Reject your breathy whisper from my mind.
The misery created in your wake,
Twisted remembrances, callous and blind.
I’ve seen how the universe conspires,
And I model a wish, a voiceless cry,
To enact revenge with blazing fires,
Consume the icy sting, this black heart dies.
Scratch the match, blistering skin with my brand,
Scorching retribution within my hand.
Copyright © Amy Ohare | Year Posted 2015
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Amy Ohare Poem
I can see the fiery spark within a blooming flower,
I see the twinkle and shine in every dirty stone.
My imagination runs wild with many adventures,
And my adventures run wild with the creatures that inhabit them.
Beauty is not lost from me.
I know nothing of mythology,
All possibilities are real through my eyes.
I believe in the unseeable entities that are beyond the grown mind,
Like Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy.
Beauty is appreciated by me.
Age crafts a barricade to imagination,
It halts fantasies from flourishing.
Throw away the box, chest, and stronghold to dreams,
Glimpse the fortunes of illusions and whimsy.
Beauty is not wasted on me.
Copyright © Amy Ohare | Year Posted 2015
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Details |
Amy Ohare Poem
Lonely and outcast, I created my own.
Foe rather than friend;
How was I to know?
First there were secrets, games, and fun,
Hide and seek, blind man’s bluff, and treasure hunt.
Then he pulled me close and whispered skeletons;
He had his own ideas for amusement.
Small trinkets glimmering razor-sharp and incisive,
Bags and boxes of bloody meat and fur,
And graveyards waiting beyond the path;
Tempting me, taunting me; I was afraid.
I told myself that he was mine and of me,
So there was no way he could hurt; I was wrong.
I made my escape, but others were not so lucky.
Misfortunes falling from high windows,
Children evaporating under the moonlight.
Fear isolated me once more,
But I found happiness and love again;
Expecting children of my own.
I’ve spent so much time forgetting that it’s hard to remember.
Grasping the veil that he hides behind,
Memories haunt my halls like obscure apparitions.
But as long as I know,
My children will never experience my terror.
And yet…
I know he still watches and waits
In the darkest corners of my mind.
Copyright © Amy Ohare | Year Posted 2015
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