Tags:
  • Loss

    she

    She, the light of a candle grow weary into the late hours of the night,
    thoughts as still as the clock now stopped on the wall at 2:22am.
    Restless she paces the floor, waiting, her eyes empty ,lost, and tired; the lamp nearly gone with fuel, sits dim on the mantle of a fireplace long cold and still; memories flash in her mind from childhood, one by one they disappear, to late to remember, to late to see...
    One down she thinks to herself, as she sips her tea now chill from the long wait of being wanted, touched, the story flashed in her mind of another day and time, O' glorious me, she says, she laughs at the silence she just broke, to make sure she still exist, exist not....

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    redbloodink commented on she

    12-23-2009

    Let me just say... this gave me the chills even tho it's a little chilly here it was from the power of your words written here... truly blessed... Many blessing... red...

    Phoenix9 commented on she

    12-23-2009

    a great write, emotional with a touch of loss, empitness with a mind left to think in silence, too late

    Gisele commented on she

    05-15-2009

    I love the going back and forth, the juxtaposition of time and space and emotion.

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    Nahimana’s Poems (2)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    she 3
    awaken 1