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Linda Shierling Poem
THE ABANDON
Living in the abandon, the abscense. Living in the questionable finality. Why else should one live if not for one another, why else should one die if not to save another? Why should I sacrifice a moment of your happiness with my silence when I am sure of its lacking? If I have loved so deeply, why should I let it go to see if it will come back to me when the path has been obscured by a force so dark that I am inclined to continue to shine a light so that it might be seen even in your darkest hour, am I wrong for having loved or for shining the light? If I have believed for a moment that I am finished, I do not remember. If you believe for a moment that I should be, I must be gone. If I live long enough to cast one candle flame to your periphery that you might turn toward it and step back onto the path, then I can set you free never to wonder if you would come back to me, for I would die knowing I had shown the light just long enough to be sure.
Copyright © Linda Shierling | Year Posted 2018
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Linda Shierling Poem
SHOOT FOR THE MOON
Forbid me, forget me, ignore me, deny me, accuse me, forgive me; ask me why?...you left me! I have done as you ask, stepping back from the wrath; not left with an option or, not a chance, even half.
Yes, I have taken, guilty of theft; trying to savour any that's left. Telling myself it will be over soon, lying again, I shoot for the moon.
I watch the wheels speed right by, it really is hard to watch the years as they fly. It's my turn again, it happens so fast, how quickly it comes; my turn as last. No need to hurry, no need for mathematics, what ever the number, I'm the one that has it.
Yes, I have taken, guilty of theft; trying to savour any that's left. Telling myself it will be over soon, crying again, I shoot for the moon.
I wait for you, ...be patient you say. Just a little more time, and we won't have to pay. We didn't volunteer for such lies and treachery, I try to step in, but you just won't let me. I try to show you what's right before you, but you tell me you refuse to believe one who knows you.
Yes, I have taken, guilty of theft; trying to savour any that's left. Telling myself it will be over soon, dying again, I shoot for the moon.
Trying again, but that's no revelation; I retake, you relate always with hesitation. As I slowly give out of choices to make, I look around at the place I will take. I'm waiting again, for you to get wise to her conniving ways and her witching little lies.
Yes, I have taken, guilty of theft; trying to savour any that's left. Telling myself it will be over soon, lying again, I shoot for the moon.
She takes a breath in, you take a breath out, she consumes your oxygen, your light is burning out. She slithers and wiggles her way in and out, casting a shadow over logic and doubt. She is wicked in ways, and evil at best; she is no good for you, at last, you confess.
So, when she has taken so much and so guilty of theft, don't try to save me from whatever she's left. Don't try to tell me it will me over soon and don't be surprised when I shoot for the moon.
Copyright © Linda Shierling | Year Posted 2018
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Details |
Linda Shierling Poem
Living in the abandon, the abscense. Living in the questionable finality. Why else should one live if not for one another? Why else should one die if not to save another? Why should I sacrifice a moment of your happiness with my silence when I am sure of its lacking? If I have loved so deeply, why should I let it go to see if it will come back to me when the path has been obscured by a force so dark that I am inclined to continue to shine a light so that it might be seen even in your darkest hour, am I wrong for having loved or for shining the light? If I have believed for a moment that I am finished, I do not remember. If you believe for a moment that I should be, I must be gone. If I live long enough to cast one candle flame to your periphary that you might turn toward it and step back onto the path, then I can set you free never to wonder if you would come back to me, for I would die knowing I had shown the light just long enough to be sure.
Copyright © Linda Shierling | Year Posted 2018
|
Details |
Linda Shierling Poem
SHOOT FOR THE MOON
Forbid me, forget me, ignore me, deny me, accuse me, forgive me; ask me why?...you left me! I have done as you ask, stepping back from the wrath; not left with an option or, not a chance, even half.
Yes, I have taken, guilty of theft; trying to savour any that's left. Telling myself it will be over soon, lying again, I shoot for the moon.
I watch the wheels speed right by, it really is hard to watch the years as they fly. It's my turn again, it happens so fast, how quickly it comes; my turn as last. No need to hurry, no need for mathematics, what ever the number, I'm the one that has it.
Yes, I have taken, guilty of theft; trying to savour any that's left. Telling myself it will be over soon, crying again, I shoot for the moon.
I wait for you, ...be patient you say. Just a little more time, and we won't have to pay. We didn't volunteer for such lies and treachery, I try to step in, but you just won't let me. I try to show you what's right before you, but you tell me you refuse to believe one who knows you.
Yes, I have taken, guilty of theft; trying to savour any that's left. Telling myself it will be over soon, dying again, I shoot for the moon.
Trying again, but that's no revelation; I retake, you relate always with hesitation. As I slowly give out of choices to make, I look around at the place I will take. I'm waiting again, for you to get wise to her conniving ways and her witching little lies.
Yes, I have taken, guilty of theft; trying to savour any that's left. Telling myself it will be over soon, lying again, I shoot for the moon.
She takes a breath in, you take a breath out, she consumes your oxygen, your light is burning out. She slithers and wiggles her way in and out, casting a shadow over logic and doubt. She is wicked in ways, and evil at best; she is no good for you, at last, you confess.
So, when she has taken so much and so guilty of theft, don't try to save me from whatever she's left. Don't try to tell me it will me over soon and don't be surprised when I shoot for the moon.
Copyright © Linda Shierling | Year Posted 2018
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