Image by Rosie Hardy
I listened
to words of wisdom
whispering
‘let it go’
and fell apart in layers,
my thoughts still racing.
My final offering to One Shoot Sunday at One Stop Poetry.
Tag Archives: dark
Thoughts On Death At Dawn
As I lay dying
I recall I’m just sleeping,
dreaming; all is well.
The morning opens
expanding just to let go
morbid thoughts retreat.
It was not a death
just a rest before the dawn
and i am inspired
by the bright thunder
and rumbling streaks of lightening
stirring my senses
reminding me of
a time I relished mornings
with my own starfish.
Today there is less
darkness within the sunshine
offering me rest.
*wrote this piece years ago about a transition within…from darkness to light…thought I would share it over at dVerse~Poets Pub !
Like this:
The Moment Between
My vision wavers as heat
pours across the darkness, drying
out the surrounding light.
With a sleepy fist, I rub
my swinging eyes, and, slowly
think about waking up.
Written for One Stop Poetry\’s Form Monday .
Like this:
Something About Bones
Something about bones
spreading like hard spider webs
across my chest
speak of a dark time
in a solitary cell.
He visits me there
my bones will ache cold
as I lay silent, contorted
on my sleepless bed.
Listen to him
drunk, stumbling at the door
my body recollects
the times blazing with poison
becoming too much.
I skitter away
only to return; naked
trusting cocaine tears.
Conceded to all
and my anger is rising
to boil off his skin.
Never said no -
but there’s something about bones
spreading thin with him.
check out free verse poetry and discussion at One Stop Poetry !
Like this:
The Scottish Play*
Check out One Shoot Sunday Now! (psst...click on pic!)
whispering his name
“something wicked this way comes”**
death lingers; curtains fall
** By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.
–Second Witch, Act IV, scene, Macbeth
*learn more about superstition and the theater The Scottish Play
Like this:
Tavern of Transformation
*this is a piece I just started today. Feels like a rough draft still. Suggestions are more than welcome*
There’s this small, shadowed joint
with only one light in back.
The bouncer is Death himself,
the threshold we all must pass
to taste a divine shooter
while resting easy and restless
at the dark, grooved bar.
* my poem for One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry ! Check ‘em out*
Like this:
Lovely Visitors
