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Mind, like a deciduous forest
has lost all its foliage,
all leaves torn away
by the autumnal blasts

The brain where great schemes were concocted
is now an abyss where spiders sway
It is bare – dismally barren
of all memories – sweet and sour
Like a kite afloat in the boundless sky
moving nowhere, but as the wind directs,
cut out from the past, turned from the present
with the future yet to surge from the abyss
or like serpents intertwining,    
hissing in turmoil within the brain,
unable to sense the gusty blast,
or hear the whispering air,
dead to sounds that disturb,
deaf to songs that soothe,
like a phantom he moves weird,
drifting far away
to a space and time impenetrable  
with nothing to make the mind agog
or depress it to let out a sigh.

Loitering on roads without hurrying feet
with no bliss coming on the way
to run or hasten to embrace
or fear to be missed sore
passing through dark labyrinthine tunnels
forever barred with no exit
churned in oblivion, oblivious of all,
he remains a spectral facsimile
of his onetime self
plummeting into a black hole

The pulse of a heart beat
is all that keeps him alive,  
all else is dead…… !  
with dreary nights ahead
that shall not know another morrow
Only others can throw a little light in the dark lives of its hapless victims!

(With a heart heavy with gratitude, let me acknowledge my poet friend -  Kim Johanna Baker who gave sunshine to my poem who has thus honored me several times !)
I am not a rose

I am not delicate, I do not have thorns
I am not careful planted, tended, watered
I am not loved

I am a dandelion

I am not wanted, I do not grow where I'm told
I am random, sporadic, persistent
I am wild

I am not a rose*

I am not picked for beauty
Just to wilt
I am not chosen for love
Just to fade

I am a dandelion

I am picked to destroy me
But I will not die
I am killed to make me go away
But I will not fade

*I am not a rose
I am a dandelion

I am wild
I am free
And that is okay
I miss writing
On the stage
is the one
he is not

smiles shakes hands
holds close and tight
he is right on spot.

Hides the real face
speaks and shares
like he is a saint

blamelessly white
open in the light
without a taint.

Busy in the act
to keep away the fact
he is on guard

audience gloats
over crisp anecdotes
any dissent debarred.

From a distance
some in silence
read it in bold

the gore in the glory
the gaps in the story
and all that's untold.
Betrayal’s scars leech life’s colors
Tears sting the eye, but nary a
Drop will fall
Forgiveness paints with hope’s brush
Torn between tears and hope
Longing for an explosion of color
A battle reigns deep within
Yearning for the road less traveled
A road of dreams fulfilled
But the lure of the dark road overwhelms
Still, I fight to take that road less traveled
Yearning for the unknown
I battle the bleak comfort of the known

Kelly Rose
© December 29, 2017
Betwixt what is said
Yet not meant,
And what is meant
Yet not said;
There most love to oblivion is lost
Like as lonely leaves 'neath the **frost.
#Oblivion #Nostalgia #Melancholy #Despair
Out of the night that covers me,
      Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
      I have not winced nor cried aloud,
Under the bludgeonings of chance
      My head is ******, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
      Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
      Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
      How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
      I am the captain of my soul.
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