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Open Poetry #48
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Stir
| Open Poetry #48 |
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Stir |
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Michael
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-13
Posts 7666California 
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Stir The night was held, the light was bled, As I sat, still as stone. By dream compelled, there on my bed, Trapped by four walls, alone. The door was closed, and would remain That way eternally; As Darkness posed, a thrice-cursed train Whose tracks led twice through me. The voice of Silence, aching, sweet, Gave way to Misery. Forever, hence, set the heartbeat Of fading Memory. A soft white glove, an ageless tune— It sings, forever free. It speaks of love – It speaks of ruin, ‘Just never speaks of me. But I was there once, long ago... ‘Tis why ‘can’t close my eyes. I would not dare to lose her so— To prove it all was lies— To face a sun that morning brings, And not bask in this shame; With hell now bleeding through all things That have whispered my name. And so I sit here, night and day, To think of naught, but her. I have forfeit manner and way And sight now, to this blur. This stir of dream I can’t let go, That never lets me sleep; Betwixt the seam of all I know, And that I could not keep. Michael Anderson |
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| © Copyright 2013 Michael Anderson - All Rights Reserved | |||
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
Achingly told summation of heartfelt misery. Sleepless night wrought by thoughts of deeds done and words spoken. Forever on that spinning wheel of non-forgotten minute details and a love that didn't last. ~*~ A somebody was once a nobody who wanted to and did.--John Burroughs ~*~ |
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Honeybunch Member Rara Avis
since 2001-12-29
Posts 7115South Africa |
Achingly sad, Michael. I often wonder if all those people who tell us to just let it go have ever managed to do that themselves. I guess it's good advice but so very hard to do. In my land today the sun is shining and with it thankfully will come the necessary distractions. |
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