burden

the albatross approaches

it’s far past time to run

a burdened life encroaches

the worst has just begun

caught up in sickly deluge

and straining hard to breathe

no sweet relief or refuge

the sword you cannot sheathe

your best commitment sagging

resentment breeding hate

you find forgiveness lagging

no patience to abate

you want to see improvement

the journey long and hard

no vow of upward movement

both parties spent and scarred

your lover’s reprobation

upon your heart is seared

abhorrent confirmation

as bad as you had feared

there is no good solution

except for you to die

at last the devolution

his money couldn’t buy

 

Advertisements

Puppet Master

You pull the strings and watch the puppets dance.

You bend them to your will with loving threats.

You tell them lies to put them in a trance.

You keep them busy turning pirouettes.

You build yourself a pedestal on high,

your puppet beasts remaining down below.

From far above the stage they occupy,

you plan their coerced warfare blow by blow.

You promise they will change from wood to boys,

but only if they grant your crazy whims.

You treat them like abandoned, dusty toys,

yet dictate every movement of their limbs.

You wait to hear the crowd is most impressed,

bedazzled by the spectacle they’ve made.

The problems you’ve ignored have been addressed,

your puppets filling orders that you’ve bade.

But someday they will learn the awful truth,

that they were boys before you made them wood,

that innocence was stolen from their youth,

becoming soldiers long before they should.

Homewrecker

There once was a mother with hate,

who threw in the garbage the meal on her plate.

There once was a mother who left,

her children in agony, lost and bereft.

There once was a mother who cried,

“Take care of my children as though I have died.”

There once was a mother who moved,

her gross inattentiveness all that she proved.

There once was a mother who judged,

her perfect mascara remaining unsmudged.

There once was a mother turned green,

who couldn’t sustain consequences unseen.

There once was a mother afraid,

unable to live with the choices she made.

There once was a mother absorbed,

expecting to claim what she’d passed and ignored.

There once was a mother who foiled,

inciting a riot amongst those embroiled.

There once was a mother obsessed,

herself the one reason she raided my nest.

There once was a mother with guilt,

so viciously jealous, she smashed what I built.

 

 

 

Ascendancy

Discounting its import, a grave mistake,

pretending sex won’t have impact like this;

it’s something you must tend to for the sake

of marriage and your precious wedded bliss.

If you don’t get along, you’re surely doomed,

a fundamental problem you can’t shirk.

The sex won’t be enough, as was assumed.

Both need much more to make the marriage work.

But even if you’ve roots so thick and strong,

as to remain so firmly set in place,

the problems will prevail when sex goes wrong,

and in the end, divorce is what you’ll face.

Good sex can’t save a sinking marriage ship.

Bad sex will tear an everlasting rip.

 

 

Enabling The Future

A Global Network Of Passionate Volunteers Using 3D Printing To Give The World A "Helping Hand."

Everywhere Once

An adult's guide to long-term travel

the poet's billow

a resource for moving poetry

James Windale

The official blog of James Windale

Shadow and Clay

Adventures in Attempted Authoring

Writing Madness

blog of author charlotte cyprus

Catpaws Cafe

Random musings from my virtual fountain pen

Always Rebecca

A Mathematician attempting to swim in the ocean of writing.

Shanan Winters

Interpreter of Inspiration

La Belle Epunque

The Blog of Artist, Poet and Author, Alira Alomien Rosi

Pickled Words

a place for pickles, a place for words

To Tilt With Windmills

countless worlds at your fingertips

Red and the Big Bad Wolf

The story of me - Red living with Myasthenia Gravis or the 'Big Bad Wolf' as I prefer to call it

Wrong Side of the Glass

My Journey Through an Undefined Illness

One Fierce Mama

Unapologetic, uncensored, opinionated, and a mother.

Autoimmune Warrior

Life with Invisible Illnesses

the myasthenia kid

Life with possibly undiagnosed myasthenia gravis, diagnosed severe autonomic dysfunction and ehlers danlos syndrome

Experimental Fiction

"Come with me, and you'll be, in a world of pure imagination" Willy Wonka, 1971

Myasthenia Gravis Blog

MG Mind, Body & Soul Blog

%d bloggers like this: