Tag: secrets

Hidden Truth

Hidden Truth

Scars and secrets
hidden between
layers of inflicted pain
Breathing, suppurating
Invisible to prying eyes
Never to understand
the burden of their weight 

To carry such load
Requiring strength
and fortitude 
that could mask agonies
yet fear reprisal for
unknown sins
There but for grace go you

Copyright © 2023 Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing
All Rights Reserved

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Dark Secrets

Dark Secrets

Secrets living in dark crevices
Brooding and festering
Prisoners in body cells
Bound and restrained
Slaves to censoring

Silence starving the light
Mute and depressed
Something dying inside
Draining the life from
A voice repressed

Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©


OctPoWriMo - Secrets
RDP - Light

Wall of Secrets

Wall of Secrets

A place for a clandestine encounter
or secrets hidden within its periphery
This wall could tell stories
of trysts, surreptitious meetings
Perhaps even some bewitchery
Traces of lichen and moss
Covering the ancient rocks
Underneath, romantic messages
left by star crossed lovers whose
footsteps are now covered with Phlox
The old gate bearing initials
Carved with high expectations
Yet thwarting courtship
blocking fate, destiny
and undying declarations
Christine Bolton - Poetry for Healing ©
Sue Vincent's Thursday Write/Photo

Eight – Poem of the Month – August 2018


When I was eight
Things were not so great
Life gave me such a kick
I grew up pretty quick
A child expecting a present
Instead was delivered unpleasant
My parents started fighting
Just the beginning of writing
That was clearly on the wall
Witnessing the nightly brawl
My father was an unhappy man
My mother trying the best she can
The combination explosive
Their relationship corrosive
Living life under cumulus clouds
Feeling like the dead covered in shrouds
I learned to fake
Even though my heart would ache
Every ounce of pain
They delivered without refrain
Hurting each other mercilessly
Only to be regretted remorsefully
Suffering the pain as a mortal
Damage to the psyche immortal
Communication with each other
Was really like no other
I was the chosen intermediary
Carrying their messages diligently
The peacekeeper of the house
Keeping family secrets quiet as a mouse
Too clever for my young age
I became the family sage
Learning the art of improvise
Trying to get parents to compromise
It was a huge burden to carry
Acting as their emissary
On the shoulders of someone so young
At eight years old this was no fun
They were unable to make decisions
There were only divisions
A merry go round of hostility
I finally had enough servility
If I had any potential
Then escape was essential
Breaking loose of that scene
When I was eighteen

Christine Bolton

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