Tag: sadness

Taken

I am thrilled that MasticadoresUSA has featured my poem Taken. You can read it on their site or here at Poetry For Healing.

Please check out the MasticadoresUSA site and view other poems and prose from our featured fellow writers.

Taken

Standing in silver light
of consumed moon
Staring out to sea
Hair, raven black
Lifted by the wind
 
Palmed rose, thorny
Color of blood
Clutched tightly
to a heaving breast
as tears flowed
 
Skulls of saints
calling to lost souls
in watery graves
Where pearls from tissue
calcify in salty sea
 
Lured by songs
of sailors lost
Blood trickles
from royal flesh
taken by waves

 
Copyright © 2020 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Stolen Love – A Puente

Stolen Love

Closeness of two bodies 
Huddled in chilly night air
Promises whispered 
in white smoke breath
Impending separation
Daunting, destroying
 
~ Togetherness uncertain ~
 
Stolen love has a price to pay
Lying to one, lying to all
Saying what has been said
to another is second-hand love
Impure and sullied
Unhappiness, loneliness
 
 
Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Merril is hosting D'Verse Poets tonight and has prompted
us with "Bridge".  We may either use the word in a poem
or write a "Puente". A poem linking two stanzas by a bridge (a puente)

Photo Pixabay

Crows Calling At Night

Crows Calling At Night

The days and nights become interchangeable
as clouds transition from grey to dark grey
It seems an eternity since she saw him
Fondly remembering the shared laughter
The developing closeness and intimacy
Feelings that had been an infrequent visitor
in a solitary existence had sparked her into life
Now, with him gone, the monotony has returned
The humdrum life of loneliness she wore like a drab cloak
The only sound she hears is the squawking of crows
Sitting as black robe-like mourners in the trees
Hunched in groups, cawing empathies for her loss
Her only activity, the blanket she had promised him
The endless evening hours are now filled
with the under and over movement of the shuttle
as she weaves the brightly colored threads growing with each turn
Making it with love for her paramour who may or may not return
The crows cry out, feeling her pain as she weeps into the yarn
 
 
Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Laura Bloomsbury is hosting D'Verse Poets tonight.  She has
prompted us to choose one of five poems she shared that were
translated from the original Chinese and to reinterpret it
in out own style, keeping the original title.
I chose the following:

Crows calling at Night ~ Li baiYellow clouds beside the walls; crows roosting near.
Flying back, they caw, caw; calling in the boughs.
In the loom she weaves brocade, the Qin river girl.
Made of emerald yarn like mist, the window hides her words.
She stops the shuttle, sorrowful, and thinks of the distant man.
She stays alone in the lonely room, her tears just like the rain.“


Photo by Mahdi Dastmard on Unsplash

Why?

Why?

 Why do you ask me?
 Isn't it obvious?
 Don’t you hear me crying?
 Don’t you see my pain?
 Don’t you listen to the words
 that spill from your mouth
 like a ferocious, raging torrent
 of festering, poisonous spew?
 What’s the matter with me?
 Are you out of your mind?
 You clearly do not have a degree
 in the bleeding obvious
 Because if you did you would know
 I am human, damn it
 When you strike
 with your sharp, stabbing words
 I hurt
 I bleed
 I cry
 But you do not stop
 and
 this being human is not worth it any more
  
 

 Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
 All Rights Reserved

 Kim from Writing In N. Norfolk is hosting D'Verse Poetics
 tonight and has prompted us with starting our poem with
 the following line:
 
 "This being human is ..."
 
 I'm afraid I broke the rule and ended my poem with the line
 instead.  I hope Kim will forgive me.

 Photo by Johnny Cohen on Unsplash

Into the Darkness

Into the Darkness

An ever-consuming sadness
envelops your body in
a diaphanous veil
A storm brewing in your mind
Words of reason hide in the penumbra
Marinating in suppressed anger
that dwells there
Instinctively I know what is happening
I recognize the warning signs
triggering your frustrations 
What the eyes don’t see
Intuition already knows
Watching a rerun of the movie
I have seen so many times
I sense the imminent deterioration 
of what was once a beautiful mind
The beginning of the end



Copyright © 2021 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

Prompts

What the eyes don’t see - RDP Saturday
Penumbra - RDP Thursday
Deteriorate - FOWC
The beginning, the end - Stream of Consciousness 

Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay
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