Open Poetry #12 |
Two a.m. - Reposted from Dark Passions # 2 - Free verse |
Kethry Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-29
Posts 9082Victoria Australia |
It's late, the night has touched my soul and desolation peeks from beneath it's day covers. Feeling the loneliness separate my whole being and bringing the demons to the forefront of my mind, here they multiply and scream anew. A tear carouses, drunkenly down my cheek, Making a glistening spectacle of itself As it renews itself like a waterfall. Cascade after cascade forming puddles on my clothing, my skin, my inner being is awakened to sorrow and pathos, My abject poverty and misery have become my night-time shroud. I seek solace in things uncomforting, the cake, the ice-cream, the chocolate Despair creeps around the edges waiting like a thief to claim the remains Crawling into my veins and exploding fear and doubt in them I sit my arms clenched around my knees Neither giving or taking comfort. A shiver passes through me as I stand apart and observe The creature I have become. And mastication of self stirs in the core of my being. I am afraid. I sit silent amidst the cacophony of my soul While the maelstrom of emotions struggle to the surface Bringing with them every wrong and sin Despising the courage that allows me no peace. I continue To explore and subdue new territory. Morning comes and with it, new promise I put on my face and go into the world a brave conqueror, Claiming victory over each insignificant obstacle As I sweep through the world triumphant and undaunted. No-one knows that the night has touched my soul Those of us who refuse to risk and grow get swallowed up by life. Patty Hansen. |
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© Copyright 2001 Lynne Dale - All Rights Reserved | |||
ethome Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858New Brunswick Canada |
I hope the nights have gotten better Keth! I love the positive ending after such a masterful write about the inner turmoil that was affecting you. This is very very well done Kethry and I was just amazed as I read down through....take care!! The poet is like a cocoon; in him the caterpillar of the past finds rest, and from him the butterfly of the future emerges. |
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Irish Rose Member Patricius
since 2000-04-06
Posts 10263 |
Indeed, a brave conqueror, oh I love those words and yes, the night does give us something doesn't it? Brave writing, Kethry! "When red-haired girls scamper like roses over the rain-green grass, and the sun drips honey." Laurie Lee |
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suthern
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723Louisiana |
I know this place well... though my visits are usually scheduled for 3 a.m. *S* Very well written! |
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