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 Dec 2016 Abigail Sedgwick
Corvus
I'm locked in a cage.
Half my body spilling out through the bars;
Arms bent, snapped bones piercing through skin,
Stretched out, reaching for the key that gets further away.
Other half still held captive, hidden in the darkness
Of the secret that never wants to be paroled.
I want to escape, but the jagged limbs have formed a knot
And I can neither be pulled out through the gaps of the bars,
Nor back into the depths of repression.
I'm half free and half trapped,
And those two states of being cancel each other out.
I am nothing.
The way you wake up and rub your dreams from your eyes is
mesmerizing
And the way you turn over and pull my body against your cotton shirt is
delightful
The way your smooth hair feels in the nape of my neck is
comforting
The way your eyes flutter and focus on me makes my heart
clatter
The way we wake up is
Bliss
'Excuse me'

She whispered so subtly,
That he forgot to notice.

As her heart bled free
From his hands.
to donate
people need a reward
a shirt
a gift card
to give to someone

to do the right thing
it must benefit them
never mind the other people it'll help
only you matter

to give a cigarette
"give me 50 cents"
never mind this woman has 3 kids
and works all night
and just needs something to chill

people disgust me
they don't care
unless they get something

selfish creatures
deserve hell  
we all know that quite well
An atheist said to a reverent:

Heaven is a fairy-tale for those
who are afraid of the dark

The priest replied:

Atheism is a fairy-tale for those
who are afraid of the light.
Quoted by Philosopher: Ray Andrew.
Please note that i have nothing against atheism nor atheist people.
They are no different from any other being.
I'm sorry if this did offend anyone in anyway.
~

“i’m loosing my before,”
she says as she peers
o’er her morning cup,
she struggles to recall,
to separate before and aft,
it's a place where blurring lines,
become blurred memories.
where BC and AD intersect;
that place within her mind,
where she drew a line
’cross sands of time,
’til the winds of living
blew her line away.
of life before this Cancer,
living before this Cost;
of silence 'fore the Call,
that told her all was lost.
his voice no longer lingers,
in her dreams he used to come;
now he's just a vapor,
but a ghost of what he was.
for now it's only after
Dreariness, Decay and Death;
now it’s sleepless nights,
while in picture books he rests.
his footsteps all but gone,
and only cards and photographs
to remind of seasons once upon,
a time of laughter and rejoicing,
replaced by cup of bitter tears.
the after-date of endings,
of after-hearts were pierced;
after-leaves have all decayed,
the after-disappearance,
of joy that he defined.
these the after-leavings,
the dregs from life distilled;
left to wonder, life to ponder,
the “why” a heart stood still.
of a BC and an AD,
a BC time, Before the Call;
when life was torn in two,
leaving shredded remnants;
and now the AD, After Daniel,
a time to pick up tattered pieces,
to find the peace in what remains;
this the place where legends born,
when all that’s left is but a name.

~

*post script.

there are few events in one’s lifetime that mark time, a before and after, like loss.  whether death, divorce, or deep disappointment... each a BC/AD moment that our human condition can so easily let define what remains; our after.  yet too, if we do not rush it, there can come a time when we are able to redefine our losses into legend... an AD that is an after-definition of sorts; where a crown of beauty replaces ashes and the oil of joy is exchanged for the bitter wine of mourning.  (Isaiah 61:3)    

to my sweet wife and to each of you, my friends who grieve, whatever your “AD”, know this... while the heart beats, there is yet hope!  hugs, hope and health to each, to all!!
your poet friend and lover of your posts,
(: Steve
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