Deemed with sorrow
Pained with guilt
Will I see tomorrow
Or just slowly, wilt

The smile has vanished
Empty in my head
I have been punished
To suffer, undead

Darkness slithers around
Like a giant snake  
I am nailed to the ground
Unable to wake

It's all in my head
I know it's not true
But why my hands are red
What have I been through?

The words I try to speak
Chokes in my throat
Maybe, I'm just to weak
Lifeless so to float

I invited death gracefully
But it denied my request
Dragging myself painfully
I did try my best

Tho in shrouded straps
This heart still beats
Every ache it traps
As every tear it meets

Bound in a four-cornered room
I'm left in this world
To see and feel my doom
Waiting to be called...

©sim

Mind can be a Spider ...

Swinging between the things
Spinning a web of threads
Elastic thin intricate
To hunt food for self
Or end up eating itself...

~One can be a think tank
Stuck, but no outcome

Or

Mind can be a Silkworm as well..

Confined in darkness
Spinning a cocoon of fibres
Strong lustrous fine
To be weaved into
Useful valuable fabric...

~One can be a writer
weaving words twined with thoughts
into beautiful write

Day two
and there's still
a lingering scent of you
sparking
memories
of your presence
You could come
every second day
and like a cat
rub your back
against
everything
in my flat
Or tell me the name
of the perfume you wear
I could buy some
and sprinkle a little
here there
and everywhere

It's almost mid-December
...no more november thrills,
....just colder winds that give me a chill
and, remind me of a kind of peace...a rural calm,
in the old country days...simple celebrations
and the natural beauty of hand-made stars
hanging outside windows of houses...
their low lights seem dots , yet....seen, from
farms, ricefields, and from the old chapel,
:::
the old chapel.....where people's most
ardent wishes, dreams and  prayers, rest,
the old chapel, which sounds so heavenly,
when "silent night," and "o holy night" are sung
....in the cold hours of dawn masses...

no one feared the dark...people were guided
by lanterns.......star-shaped and lighted...
white-painted wooden Christmas trees
adorned the small living rooms...small, but
filled with that holiday warmth, shared with
family, neighbors and friends...

in lieu of those humble huts, rows of
pompous concrete structures now stand tall
over once vast pasture-lands and rice fields,
mostly gussied up with expensive decors...yet,
......bereft of the true Christmas spirit...
...silent nights, are not so silent anymore...

my chest goes high and low,
the late november winds have blown
farther away,  taken over by the boldly cold,
yet, welcomed  festive airs of december...
i'm always happy about Christ's arriving,
i am sad.......the old ways...they're vanishing...

Sally

Copytight November 27, 2017
rrab

'Your beauty makes you invisible to all,
Save for those who have crossed the unseen wall,
It is but a cage that holds the illusion,
A puff of wind and then it is only one fusion."

(Khan, BA(c) Dec. 8th, 2017)