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Open Poetry #49
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A Gloomy Night
| Open Poetry #49 |
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A Gloomy Night |
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Professor Gloom Member Elite
since 2000-07-23
Posts 3082of Depression |
1 She stands and looks out the window, There is no one there, no one cares, She pours herself a drink and cries Falling on the bed to wet it with tears Her sobbing echoes in the darkness Her life has no brightness of light, Just bourbon to comfort her to sleep. 2 She wants a lover, but no one cares, She doesn’t want to drink and cry She locked behind doors to hide tears As he souls slips in the darkness Losing all her laughter and light So sad that she can’t get to sleep, So standing she looks out the window. 3 Her reflection is so sad she cries Face streaked with flowing tears As she stares out into the darkness, There is no need to turn on the light To see nightmares from her sleep That linger just outside her window Where there is a world that doesn’t care. 4 Too many to count are her tears And yet they can’t fill up the darkness In her heart there remains no light Three AM and yet still to sleep She pulls the drapes of the window Is something there, she doesn’t care She pours herself a drink and cries. 5 Sirens are far off in the darkness Running to help, hurrying flashing lights Perhaps she might finally fall asleep Ignoring nightmares outside her window The bourbon makes her not to care There have been too many cries At last in sleep so ends her tears. 6 There is not rest or comfort in sleep Dreaming through the soul’s smudged window Still unable to find someone to care Someone to comfort her when she cries Someone to brush away her many tears Someone to step out of dreams and darkness To show her the way to the happy light. 7 The rain pounds harsh on her window, It leaks at the edges but she doesn’t care, As if the world might join her cries The wall streaked as if by her tears Clean lines in the dirty wall’s darkness, Then comes the day with first light And she still feels worn after sleep. 0 The door opens to let her into the light Face washed to hide a night’s tears, Bourbon breath but she doesn’t care. Gloom |
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Jack Napes Member
since 2014-02-22
Posts 290Phaedra's Womb |
That's a story alright PG. Like an episode of Yancy Derringer. No, that's not true. I'm just at a loss for words Professor. The direct antithesis of yourself here. Maybe I'll come back and give it another 'shot' when I've had a few myself. Touch, but don't look |
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Professor Gloom Member Elite
since 2000-07-23
Posts 3082of Depression |
Thank you Jack, This is a structured poem, Repeating ending lines that rotate through the stanzas, A while back, this sort of poetry was often posted here, But most of those writers are gone, So team that with my dismal depressing style And it is no wonder I often just post for myself. Gloom |
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nakdthoughts Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200Between the Lines |
"And she still feels worn after sleep" sounds familiar... M (nice to be reading you again) |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
When this sort of dismal depression sets in the world has all the charm of an oft used, but never flushed, toilet. I have drank from that same bottle of bourbon. ~*~ Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.--James Joyce ~*~ |
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Lori Grosser Rhoden Member Patricius
since 2009-10-10
Posts 10202Fair to middlin' of nowhere |
PG Good work here. Many moons ago burbon and I got into it and the burbon won. Now I keep my distance as the mere thought makes me queasy. Other than that detail, I can relate. (well my walls aren't THAT dirty) Lori  |
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