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Open Poetry #1

victims of circumstance

grandiloquent
Member

since 1999-07-08

Posts 104
Midwest America

0 posted 1999-07-09 12:04 PM

there's some dishes left in the sink there
and a few hopes and dreams left to rot there
an empty blue suitcase by the stairwell wall
a gift from her aunt she recalls.
the chair by the microwave is pushed over
and the morning light catches its metal much bolder
than the pale light of the overhead that still shines on
{ oh, the kitchen sure looks pretty at dawn }
the plants one can tell need some watering
the edges are browning, the stems they are wilting
but there's never much time these days
no, it's never a calm life these days
{ where did the childhood, the twenty-hood go? }
And the thoughts they pass weakly like the waves of a sick breeze
that is dying in lengths against the house side facing eastly
. . .a brush of cogitation not really there at all
{ if only this pain could have the same faded call }.
The minutes pass gently like a ghost with disease
and the blood and the semen still cling to her knees
she just fought too hard, and dear god that last blow. . .
{ how thankful to be breathing, how inspired this show }
The blood from her hand is still dried to the floor
as it refuses to move against one damn prayer in her head
{ the devil is winning, the miracle's dead }
She wonders:
Was it that he smashed in the window or did she forget to lock the door?
Did he plan to find her here or anyone at all?
Was it fate or obsession that brought in death's call?
she looks blankly forward and remembers her insight;
a child of twelve watching broken down houses
pass in and out of the window of a sleek family car
{ we are so randomly thrown in to our lives
and we forget fate was the hand of our comfort
or admission of our pain
sometimes it seems we're just living in vain . . .
sometimes it seems we're just dying in vain }

~one voice~
Senior Member

since 1999-07-08

Posts 664
Billings, MT USA

1 posted 1999-07-09 12:13 PM

I love your work. You write with so much detail that your subjects are so easy to imagine. Thank you for sharing your talent.

------------------
~one voice~

For Myself, I live,
Live intensely and am fed by life,
and my value, whatever it be, is in my own kind of expression of that. *Henry James

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