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Tammy M Darby Feb 2019
When asked where he dwells
He replied
In the house of grief.
My heart is broken, and the soul is torn
Bound to a memory
A decaying corpse
That died gasping in my arms
Her name upon my trembling lips

Life left the body of my beloved
Though now long placed in the ground
Those who know me mutter under their breath
She makes no sound
And I am insane

In the endless aching hours
And long sighs of the night
An ethereal wraith appears before me
When the blue sparkle comet flies

The moon is on the wane
Reflected in the waters eye
In between the cold worlds
I listen for her cries

I asked gently with pity
Why is it must you stay
Until your mind can bear no more
Forever and a day

He replied
By man’s spoken law she is dead
Her body I watched them lovingly lay
In my insanity and heart, she lives
Curse them I care not what they say

So, stone dead he was when they found him
It was as he had sworn
In the house of grief
He remained to the end
Until she called his name no more

Original All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Feb. 19, 2018.
Rewrite February 7, 2019.
  Feb 2019 Tammy M Darby
Eloisa
If there comes a time
that you might lose me
Find me in my poetry
  Feb 2019 Tammy M Darby
mat
a dance of daggers
twirling on their sterling
edge
right across my heart
Grab the child of the forlorn place
Liberation paints their heads
The gun is held as the bible mace
Freedom lives in lead

Father watches Capetown port
Batons whip their tattered cross
Yellow tags on scarred cohorts
Happy children, born of loss

Kings feast on country plates
Satiated, complacent
Place the stone on people’s fate
And bless the nation nascent
Tammy M Darby Feb 2019
Scholars of the script
The notably odd ones out
Greedily clutching our paper
Wooden pencil in hand
Remaining silent when we want to shout

Aspiring to write perfect stanza
That is always just beyond our grasp
Bearing the sidelong glances and whispers
That our undertakings often bring about

We are the Misfits
The Manic
The Loners
The Strange
Rife with depression

While declining to be mundane

We are the poets
The writers
Artists of letters
Courageous and valiant
Carefully treading through the veil of reality
Trying not to lose our balance

We are the poets
The writers
Singular and unique
Each having a story to tell
As we live our lives
A precarious existence at best
Between the promise of Heaven
And the fear of Hell

All Rights Reserved. Tammy M. Darby Feb. 1, 2019
All Material Stored in Author Base
  Feb 2019 Tammy M Darby
Sonia Ettyang
His eyes spoke profoundly what his lips couldn't utter.
©Sonia Ettyang
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