cold, hard, metallic rain hasn’t stopped
falling in days-
so obviously different from the sounds
of summer’s thunder, warm and soft
to touch, full of breath and life;
now this piercing rain, uncompassionately
lands heavily upon this heart of mine,
each drop a reminder of distant pain,
hidden from sight, blackening the very
heart in which it clings…
hateful falling rain, tearing at the wounds
of time, mocking the very fabric
from which it stings-
there is no shelter from these sounds
of the past, echoed now within
the prickling drops pouring down
outside upon my windowsill
Tag: poems
sanity
lost… lost… this mind
is lost to the echoes
calling me backwards,
dragging me to some
inane spot of time
that lingers in the backdrop
of painful memory …
unwilling to be released
and fighting against the hands
of time that slowly click
away the moments of morality,
this heart suffers at the sword
of thought that refuses to let go,
and will not give in …
this unending tug of time,
that cannot release the soul
from suffering,
weighs with each tick
a little heavier
upon the chest of my sanity
Shadows
silver dawn creeps between
the trees, playing hide
and seek with the moon;
as squirrels dart frenetically
around with acorns in their
teeth…
while dusty summer holds on
to what remains of light,
autumn will soon give way
to darkness, as she swallows
the morning and encourages
the night…
oh changing seasons, so indefatigable
in your constancy!
this heart of mine longs
for distance from the shadows
that darken it so
but just as winter steals bits
of day, so must we delve into
what lingers in the darker
parts of ourselves…
maybe
maybe i remember the low,
cold feeling of concrete
where i lay, sleeping…
maybe i remember how the ground
felt under my feet as i made
my way through tunnels of pain
to end up in that same place…
maybe i remember the room
and the peeling paint and the
ripped wallpaper as i stared into
the distance pretending
that you cared and i was safe…
maybe i remember how you left
that day- as if i was trash to be
thrown away…
maybe this bent mind would rather
forget you and that place and the
broken pieces that linger still
behind my face
crickets
morning sun remains hidden
as sheets of growing darkness
cover the dawn with gliding
fervor; crickets relay songs
of summer as they drift slowly
into winter’s sleep;
and how this heart of mine
beats quickly, remembering
the change in time, and how the light
slowly drifted from before my eyes-
as what was left of my innocence
was stolen by the marching of
soundless ignorance…
what was i before this breaking
that took my mind?
crickets still fight against the impending
darkness that will cause their demise
and I wonder, why couldn’t i?
lying
the distance between us is too far
for my eyes to see; though i search
through my mind to find that one
deciding factor that would bring
memories back to life
while my body lies, slowly dying,
words sunken into eyes that are too
tired to see anymore
and you, standing beside, waiting like
a vulture for yours- now after all
this time
how can this be that you would rip
the heart from me while I lay
destitute upon this smoldering
ground, a wreckage of a human
being, though still you play…
and i’m too salty to fight for more
than just one more embrace-
“you fool!” I say… though in truth,
i’m the one lying
nature’s serenade
the cold rain taps upon my roof
with a pitter patter; dancing
among the cold, sunburnt trees
as leaves slowly file their way
down from sky to ground
in a symphony of colors
orange, yellow, red… soon branches
will sustain no more
and bare winter’s cold fingers
will grip upon the distance
with blue, white and silver…
yet, for now, listening to the
boisterous rapping of rain,
pondering change, i sit with a kitten
warming herself in the folds of
my lap and smile at the
constancy of nature’s serenade
dreaming of songbirds
songbirds cower together
huddled to avoid detection;
like a dog i pet one with my
pointer finger
under the chin and across
the wings; such soft feathers,
like baby’s down, covering…
i would protect your song with
my heart should you decide
to give voice to your sweet
solitudes-
for there’s nothing left within
this space but quiet
and your soft tunes, but tales
of long ago, bring peace to this
brooding soul
venerable hell
within the gates of pain that lock
my soul to the post of past transgressions
i pay this penance for that which was
altered when the sun shone, and the moon
was ripe with strawberries and songbirds…
would that i release this soul to find the freedom
that dogs it so, yet apology’s song sounds
weak when presented upon winter’s
cold blow, now nothing but pain remains
within the heart that lingers still upon
days past, haunted by that which was
already accepted as fate
and drawn down into the cold entrance
of a venerable, indefatigable hell
transition
a mighty wind blows
and voices of change
haunt this graveyard
of the past, like bits of
stolen memory
from long ago…
as i walk amid these
newly carved gravestones,
as the moon full of
what’s been closed lights
the change before me,
i linger between the past
and the future
breathing in what is to be…
for there’s nothing now but
holes dug into the ground
of my faulty memory…
so i linger now
beneath this moon
of change
and await the oncoming
transitions
the SIBYL'S SONG 