A Sequel to The Dementia of Mother and On the Threshold of Death with more to come as the drama unfolds.
The rising sun crept upwards from the East
sneaking peaks through distant palms
waving fronds in fond farewell
to night, a welcome to the morn,
probing fingers dressed with charm
waving wand rays stretching, warm
upon what was a once too solemn eve.
She would not leave.
Upon her rosy halcyon cheeks reflecting
former pallor of her death – misdirecting
it to some deserving more untimely end –
she rose to deafly hear the silence of her day
to read the smiles of all who watched her stay
the throes of agony
anguish, rheumy aspect of her eyes,
her weakened heart,
impacted lungs,
edema –
all
determined to destroy her castle's wall.
They could not overcome
her
could not with their weaponry defeat
her
did not wrench her life nor soul nor mind
from her.
Her weary wits erratic
wandered through a maze of mind and matter
not knowing which – former? Latter?
which was real and which fantastic.
By will alone she persevered
while some had hope
and others – pray:
she lives to see another day.
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 900 times
Written on 2007-01-16 at 16:04
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From Death Does She Part
The rising sun crept upwards from the East
sneaking peaks through distant palms
waving fronds in fond farewell
to night, a welcome to the morn,
probing fingers dressed with charm
waving wand rays stretching, warm
upon what was a once too solemn eve.
She would not leave.
Upon her rosy halcyon cheeks reflecting
former pallor of her death – misdirecting
it to some deserving more untimely end –
she rose to deafly hear the silence of her day
to read the smiles of all who watched her stay
the throes of agony
anguish, rheumy aspect of her eyes,
her weakened heart,
impacted lungs,
edema –
all
determined to destroy her castle's wall.
They could not overcome
her
could not with their weaponry defeat
her
did not wrench her life nor soul nor mind
from her.
Her weary wits erratic
wandered through a maze of mind and matter
not knowing which – former? Latter?
which was real and which fantastic.
By will alone she persevered
while some had hope
and others – pray:
she lives to see another day.
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 900 times
Written on 2007-01-16 at 16:04
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text