Inscape of My Poetry

Will the inscape of my poetry

Foreshadow my doom

Will it lay the groundwork for me

Intentions in a cradled moon

Or is it visions of my trauma

My past that lit fire after night

The things that built me lonely

Past and Future surely blight

From a Vulnerable Place

This week has been a very vulnerable week, as I write this from a different state about to attend a funeral. From the recent death, all the rejections I’ve gotten so far, and dipping my toes into a past that threatens to drown me, I would say that it has been challenging mentally. I tried to find a poem I have done in the past this morning before having to get ready that didn’t sting and burn to the touch of a thought, but the only one I found was one that I thought fits well to the day I had yesterday.

Resentment inhabits me from so long ago.

Alone. My family’s eyes boring into me.

Always the outcast.

No one by my side.

I never want the same for you.

Clenched Death

unnamed (2)

Life,

death.

Everything covers her.

She wants them both.

The growing need

it pushes her,

to do something

that most won’t.

She holds her death in one hand.

Seven pills in a fist.

It is funny that that is God’s number,

for he will be seeing her

after this.

 

Another poem from my past.