Yes, it is later than you may have expected to see the poem, but....I had a hard time selecting which one to post, and then I was struck with inspiration, and that inspiration has led to the writing of three whole new poems! Theyll need refining before I can even think of sharing them, but it was a good creative night! Below I have selected a deeply personal poem that I wrote during a very vulnerable, painful time in my life following the loss of a loved one, and my hope faltered that I would ever be happy again. And like Frodos wound, the scar of their loss has never fully healed in all these years. I wonder if I will meet them again, reborn in this life or waiting for me beyond? So...Im kind of baring my soul here, haha. Let me know what you think.... THE DESPAIR OF WITHIN Would you carry me? When the lights have gone out and my heart suffers doubt That the agony inside will not end When my will has depleted and my allies retreated To a haven for winter to spend While my strength, it is fading, and the Reaper is wading Through rivers of blood down to send My chained, shackled soul for to be devoured whole As a banquet prepared for my friends Would you carry me? Would you carry me? When I’m taking my lashes and dining on the ashes Of my world burning up in my hands When the bright petals wither and the flower stems slither As serpents to poison these lands And our dearly departed weep sore, brokenhearted Turned back by all Heaven’s demands Sure Hell will yet take them, if only to rake them O’er coals till their bones turn to sand Would you carry me? Would you carry me? As macabre we sight-see through grim cemetery The tree limbs in the wind that are creaking Like old hollow bones begging in mournful tones For to end their forgotten dreams’ shrieking But there are no more tears to drown sorrow and fears In boat that has always been leaking And pulling ashore we are met by the gore Of the havoc our war has been wreaking Would you carry me? Would you carry me? When dawn becomes twilight and my gold turns to pyrite When the rain falling down makes rust of my crown When my soul is laid bare for my enemies to stare And toss spittle and curses on my life’s many verses Illuminated pages, the art of time’s sages Turned brittle and worn by fate’s merciless scorn And the hearthfires of the past sputter out at long last Leaving naught to behold but the soot stricken cold Of a grave dug too shallow, and no marker to hallow Across all time’s passing and the years gone amassing To trample your memory and all loved one’s reveries That I existed at all in the season of fall Or that spring or the winter sound my summer to hinter And call up my poor soul from the church bell’s deep toll For shade green paths to wander, no more shall I squander The sun shining within making silent the din Of the war that is life in the living Would you carry me?
Posted on: Fri, 24 Oct 2014 07:33:32 +0000
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