These burdens placed upon my head torment,
And leave my mind to quiet solitude.
These tears from pallid eyes cry in lament;
“Has life been stripped of Grace and Rectitude?”
Let lie the Dead, in place of restless sleep,
For what is done is past and finished here.
These memories of distant friends we keep,
Remind us that the night is drawing near.
A storm has settled on the horizon.
A breath is held, once and forevermore.
The Earth, she yawns and swallows up each one,
They have forgotten what they’re living for.
The damned see this that lies ahead,
But surely they know not, their souls are Dead.

(October 2006)

A gypsy moth finds herself trapped
Between screen and window pane.
The more she beats her broken wings
The more battered they become.
She is helpless.

Once smooth and beautiful,
The elaborate pattern
Decorating her wings
Is gone.
Delicate scales ripped apart
By a desire for Freedom
More intense
Than her desire for Life.

When at last she realizes
That she shall have neither
The quiet Queen folds her shredded wings
And accepts her fate.
She shall die as she was born;
Un-noticed in a world too vast
To comprehend her significance.

But at the very moment
She has made peace with truth
An ivory pair of hands
Grasp the white wood frame
And with white knuckles,
Liberate the broken Empress
From her glassy prison.

She is free.
She is torn and she is broken
But she is free.

(April 2007)

Here’s a place just for you to post your poetry, thoughts or whatever…