Absurd ideas made it easier to bleed
the pity she sometimes craved.
Religiously play the victim,
savor the pessimism, enjoy
the cut into the brain.
No blade or carving could satiate this hunger.
There were no plans to be saved.
Crimson flow and will are no easy
permit to deity.
Not like whispering a prayer or believing.
This was hard planning, no spontaneity.
Friends had to love her, like no other.
They should feel lost and grieve when she’s gone.
It would be a tricky last task.
Damning those with cheerful
applications...always the best.
Still scheming and smiling,
anguish shot through her chest.
Down the length of her arm, claiming
that feral muscle, for eternal rest.
Whssssshhhh!
Spirit sucked out of her body.
Seeing personification mortal
piled in a heap.
Derailed, her plan had failed.
On a parallel plane, with a silver cord.
The sentence was handed from a higher court.
She spotted her name on the marble stone.
Engraved with revocation...
Still no lessons learned,
the dying flowers remain the same.
JC, I am finding loitering around your exciting den is worth the repeat visits. I always find it very refreshing to read a Poet who can yet, knows just how far to reach without losing control. This is an excellent composition, Poet. I’d really enjoy hearing you recite this piece. Please let me know if you ever plan on doing it. Thank you for sharing your soul gripping talent.
I thought you were writing about good stuff in future......
Janet love, I don't know anybody who can pull raw emotion from deep within herself and slap it on a page like you do. This might sound a none too positive comment but we know each other well enough. Actually I think your writing distils the societies we have made.
OK, I'm gonna do something to make you smile now darling
Still no lessons learned,
the dying flowers remain the same.
Flowers always accept what they are, and choose to grow unless stunted. Encouragement for human beings causes us to flower, the opposite to wither. This rings with so much strength Janet.
Hearts of Gold
Synopsis
by
Frank P. Whyte
Portland, Oregon is known as the City of Roses. Of course that’s an odd name for a city whose mere mention conjures images of driving winds and torrential ra
'Better Without You'is a compelling narrative that explores the complexities of an affair, hidden secrets, and abuse. It also highlights a daughter's heartfelt journey as she cares for her mother who is battling dementia.
'Better Without You'is a compelling narrative that explores the complexities of an affair, hidden secrets, and abuse. It also highlights a daughter's heartfelt journey as she cares for her mother who is battling dementia.
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You get to the core of the matter !!
Peter Paton
You rock girl!
Caryn
x0x0x0
Janet love, I don't know anybody who can pull raw emotion from deep within herself and slap it on a page like you do. This might sound a none too positive comment but we know each other well enough. Actually I think your writing distils the societies we have made.
OK, I'm gonna do something to make you smile now darling
(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Burleson, Karen Lynn. :D
Wishing you storm-free days ahead, nothing but wall to wall severe CLEAR!! And plenty of SUNSHINE to go along with it!
the dying flowers remain the same.
Flowers always accept what they are, and choose to grow unless stunted. Encouragement for human beings causes us to flower, the opposite to wither. This rings with so much strength Janet.
blessin's 2 U
cynth'ya lewis reed
Excellent!
TRASK
No one gets to the nitty gritty like you!;-)