What will you do?
When without warning the bombs fly
The air becomes malignant and the children cry
The seas flush red with rotting bodies
The thrashing rivers die
What will you do?

What will you say?
When the doomed dying ask why
Spiraling into its death throes
Humanity ****** breathes its last sighs
What will you say?

What will you see?
Look once again
The earth barren and cold
Blow the sour winds
We destroyed ourselves willingly for power and gold
Steeped deep in sin
That's what you will see.

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby September 6. 2019.
All Material Stored in Author Base.

Why are the traits of creativity and insanity
An hourglass and sand
Is it an unintended genetic defect?
Or a simple wonderment of man
An anomaly of nature
A chemical imbalance in the Ribonucleic acid
A minuscule knot in the DNA strands

Many minds revered and unknown don the genius crown
The emotive disturbing creations of Goya’s dark-stained hands
The deaf Beethoven composing the illustrious symphonies of sound
The imagery of Hemingway before he felt disposed to lay the pencil down

Leonardo da Vinci the scientist and painter who dreamt of Mars
The Kaleidoscope of inventors, poets, visual and musical artists
The unseen silent ones who walk among us
Who glimpse and grasp for that which lies in secret even beyond the stars

They socialize freely with death and depression
That colors that taunt the fingers and feed the obsession
The impeccable word so elusive often sought in panic
Never-ending questions of the universe that must be answered
So comes the genesis of the melancholy, bipolar. schizoid and the manic

Why are creativity and insanity
An hourglass and sand
Is it an inherited genetic defect?
Or a singular wonder of man
A chemical imbalance in the Ribonucleic acid
A minuscule knot in the DNA strands

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Oct. 4, 2019.
All Material Stored in Author Base.

Carmine flowers with yellow delicate centers
Guarded by sharp-tipped thorns that pierce deep
Resting upon brown thin bark-covered reaching branches
Rain covered veined green leaves

Breeze blown petals soft pink, mutated and light
Dance daintily through the air on their final flight
On gentle downdrafts, floating before they kiss the ground
Shunning all finalities fanfare
Without the slightest sound

In their pageantry of elegance and depths of fiery red
Crimson blush life ebbing as the sun pursues its bed
Rising comes the ashen moon lifting her head
The lifeless pale florets lay strewn about faded and dead.


All Right Reserved @Tammy M. Darby Sept. 28, 2019.
All Material Stored in Author Base.

If but a night and day gaze from my eyes
Take courage
Deafen your ears to the fearful cries

If but an hour you cower in my soul
Flee in fear
For what you have seen and now know

If but a minute reside in my inquisitive mind
The palette of a poet
Glimpsing into imagination and the ripples of time

If but a second peer into my heart and its crimes
There lies the enigma of my maddening rhymes

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Sept. 26, 2019.
All Material Stored in Author Base.

There is no solace for the brokenhearted
The injured heart will not heal
It refuses entrance to happiness for some cuts run too deep
The concept of love now being too surreal

Alas there is no consolation for the brokenhearted
They suppress their tears and shelter their hearts
Turning their eyes away from that which they secretly desire
Denying the light instead keeping company with the dark

Pity the brokenhearted
For they exist in a world of pain
No longer being able to bear the human touch
Denying the very emotion, they seek in vain

All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Sept 24, 2019.