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Helen Feb 2014
I only closed my eyes for a second

The death forest surrounds me.
Ghostly white trees mocking me in their silence
Woven bleached bones of all the fallen
bound together, glowing under a pale full moon
Empty eye sockets peering at me
as I weave in and out of their grasp
Inside the mist, stumbling without guidance

There’s an old man, sitting in one of the trees
laughing at the insanity but oddly distressed,
smiling at me. Cackling with glee but weeping
as he reaches out to touch my hair and sweep it
behind one ear. It’s comforting in it’s creepiness

He’s whispering to me in a smoke scratched voice
Comfort is as comfort does
Redemption is not at the foot of a hill
Catch a tiger by the tail
and it’s your blood that will spill

All I can hear is booming laughter
that shake the leaves of the bone dead trees
and as I watch them fall to the ground and turn to ash
I realize the old man never even opened his mouth

Then it’s all gone*

I’m back to sitting in front of a stone cold hearth
ripping pages from the book of my mind
and watching my Memories feed the fire
as I poke it with a red hot piece of steel
It was all the fodder for the fire I could find
Sipping from the crystal goblet filled to the brim
with Lies mixed with Deceit with a slice of lemon
and a dash of Arsenic just for a kick
The fire casts prisms of light bouncing from the crystal
onto bare walls to show a slow waltz of torture
that bleeds down the bricks in sinking desperation
A rainbow of colors from a ***** oil slick
Helen Feb 2014
Bearing scars
from long ago dreams
that died
a torturous death
Whispering words
in a harsh light
with lungs
that can’t draw breath
Searing images
Looping
like a horror movie
that replay in the mind
in the darkness
Flickering
Closing eyes can’t
make me blind
I can see
in the dark
but I really hate
the night
Battle scars
are what I wear
You don’t have to
think its right
It’s uncomfortable
For you, I know, but
I really hate the dark
So please…
Don't turn off the light
Helen Feb 2014
another fork in the road
left or right?
last time I hung a left
I fell down laughing
at the nothingness
that kept me awake
at night...

I could go right
and forge new horizons
that don't feel hollow
and just pretend to swallow
tepidness with one decision
but I'm undecided
at this fork in the road
maybe if I shed some blood
I could read my destination
dripping from my open veins
with just a simple incision

I struggle with the blah blah blah
of "the road less traveled" and
"the road to hell is paved with
the best intentions"
I made choices to take the path
that was less likely to interact
with any who were likely
to make a pact with another
for intervention

I'm on my own

I zigged
when I should have
zagged
and pretended that
it was possible to ****
the importance out of the Deity
that set me upon this path

Alas

I have been dropped
upon this road to redemption
with no moral compass
no false assumptions
and no money to pay for gas

Dec 3, 2011
Helen Feb 2014
On the steps of the train station
where a wrapped bundle wept
with the indignity of being female
was all that she had left
As millions passed her by
on feet that carried them
to their own redemption
They glanced at the small bundle
and questioned
What price do I pay
With my intervention?


Millions of mothers held hands
with their sons
and asked for forgiveness
hiding their bounty
from the regimes eyes
A son, or a daughter
One is life
the other means slaughter
Those that birthed a means
to the end
hid their complacency
behind their sigh

As that little girl starved
and wailed her angst
to ears that didn’t listen
she spread her humanity
to all the passing feet
that saw, but ignored
the tears on her cheek
that glistened

Worldwide, we notice
whole populations
that give their children
to the dark
And we watch, and wonder
as their tiny life spark
withers
she died

There was much outrage
*but only you cried
at the risk of being misinterpreted (I NEVER explain my poetry) this was written many years ago, when several people listened to a story about about a baby girl left on the steps of a train station in China at the height of their 'one child policy' as they all expressed their outrage I only witnessed one person who actually shed a tear at such diabolical cruelty....
Helen Feb 2014
I stumbled upon a most beautiful poem
It made me cry, and smile and pretend
I don't ever want to have such loss known
I wept all the way, to the very end

then I read it again and again

We have all felt it, tasted its poison
tried to stay tight lipped without drinking
It's bittersweet kiss tends to destroy us
pores contract as it leeches through thinking

I seek surcease as I demand
another shot of being ******


So to the note, left at the end

Let the candy of such sublime memories
melt upon a tongue that never denies
For none of us will ever simply, be free
but we can sweeten our blood
with remembrance to good times

*good times
*like so much of life, it is bittersweet! yet that word is a reminder that it is not our losses, but what we make of our losses, that defines us... and makes our life sweet!* ~ S.E.Reimer
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/turning-pages-6/
Helen Feb 2014
escapism*

the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy.

Hello

I'm just a un pretty face
in an ugly place
I can pretend
with the best of them

I love to paint pictures
that make no sense
except
inside my head.
on canvas?
they are just literally
uncoordinated twitchiness
a need to put colour
back into a world
of Black and White

I like to write stories
the antagonist being
just someone
who lost,
the heroine
fleeing
from a simple world
so complicated
it's hard to cast
two beings that are so
ill fated


and so the story goes

That poetry saved me
I can't tell it
for truth
It makes a difference
I suppose

But honestly?

I wake at the crack of dawn
I yell at the dog for barking
I take a minute for myself
Then wake the kids
it's starting
Getting ready for  another day
is like petting a lion
begging food as a stray
I collect the mail
sort the bills
pretend that money
is an option, not a price
then sell myself to another
for a day
so nice
Feed, clean, wash
make sure no one is missed
How was your day dear?
Well, it's like this
as they wander away
to their own adventures
and I'm left
to my own devices
eventually
To paint a picture
Write a book
Or expel my life's pleasures
into poetry
and all I really hear is
What do you mean, is that about me?

Umm no, it's about me...

And tomorrow
I'll wake up
to do it all again

Hello

I'm Helen
and I'm so glad to meet each and every one of you here :)
Helen Feb 2014
I prayed

I prayed

Not to my God
I have none
but to yours
I thanked a Lord
I have no belief in
for creating
such a fine angel
I thanked someone
anyone
That I could hold you
before I needed
to fight
for you
in a never ending
lifetime of
Wars

Kiss me

Kiss me

Before I leave
make me believe
that before the battle
I fight for someone
anyone
who
if I fall
will take my lifeless soul
into their own heart
and never forget me
to forever
grieve

Before the battle
as I venture out
into the field
to bathe the earth red
with thy enemies blood
Whisper to me

whisper

How you regret that I leave
and you will be waiting
an eternity
for me to return
to wash away
my sins
with your heavenly body
and shower me clean
with your pure love

Promise me

I fight

for all the

right

Reasons

Dec 2, 2010
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