"splenetic" poems
Before this story, to you, I tell.
I would ask that you listen well.
Mine is a tale that can surely stand,
from very beginning to very end.
My lover was pure, saintly, and true,
almost as if she could be seen through.
Dressed in holy whites, she glided,
and my wayward heart, she guided.
I had little to my status or name,
little of fame to entice her aim.
Yet, still she slithered by my side,
till no longer could it be denied.
I was hers and hers alone to take,
and so I went along for her sake.
Such a fate did not bother me,
for her love made us become we.
Before her, I felt like a scuttling ant,
something small, weak, and scant.
Through her, my heart made worn,
became something else: loveborn.
And so it went from day to night,
a union of souls beaming sweet light.
We lived, we laughed, we loved.
Our ardor was blessed from the sky above.
I, speaking for myself, was fit with glee,
and my mirth could fill the deepest sea.
But, in her, I began to notice doubt,
as if something in her was in a drought.
Her cheeks did not span like before,
her eyes did not gleam like the shore.
Her essence did not shine the sky,
her heart did not beam on high.
I then began to wonder and doubt,
what had caused her this bout.
Was I to blame for her behavior,
had I created my fallen savior?
I knew that I was weak: pathetic,
something to be mocked: genetic.
Was our love doomed: prophetic?
I thought and I thought: splenetic.
If I was so miserable after all,
I would give her cause to squall.
Let us cease the senseless play,
and close the curtain on today.
I met her gaze in our room,
the scene was set for her doom.
I smiled. Then the deed was done.
She was from this world gone.
And in that moment, I stopped.
Looking at her, my head dropped.
In that moment, I had to kneel,
noting she had never been more real.
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 2:12 AM UTC
Can you see it?
The slender, stiff fingers
Of anxiety, stretching out
Trying to engulf me
Telling me 'You're no good for this'
Can you feel it?
The ice cold caresses
Of despair, tightening
On my lanky ankles
Trying to throw me face down
Can you taste it?
The acerbic, splenetic flavor
Of pain, searing hot like red skewers
Burning my soles
Making me cry out in anguish
I soar, walk and stumble
On the wild road filled with
Clearing the branches and thorns
Ignoring the pain of bones obstructing my throat
That make my boots get stuck
I can feel and taste it
The warmth of success seeping
From above. I can see it
The ladder of hope, leading to joy
Even with sagged shoulders and
Tired feet, that climb is one I shall make
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 11:56 PM UTC