PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

like the wailing of a wayward wife

or the cut received by the stabbing from the dullest

knife

its the cold yet empty feeling of embittered betrayal

that murders the unwanted in life

making death a ready option that's open and hoping

for a sale

my truest for to this living life consists of tiny

pieces of paper with indecipherable scribbles upon

them

mere thoughts that wish not to be forgotten so they

are cast to the feet and mercy of the page should

the mind close or grow dim

I've been writing to this date in moderated quantities

of richly intense volume

under even the most heated conditions of the mind

I struggle with the pen to remain careful and calm

I repeat to my sullen self over and over again

magical words to quiet the deafening sound

the sound of my fragile soul falling only to shatter

upon a dark and indifferent ground

after so much hard work I can not lose my indeed

true self

nor can I allow my deepest feelings through these

poems to merely lay and collect dust upon a forgotten

shelf

I will continue to pour my pensive thoughts upon these

welcoming pages until the day I expire

and I'll never willingly abandon these feelings for

a seat among the clouds nor for a walk through the

forthcoming fire.................

(written April 27,1992 am)