an empty pillow…

when death
becomes your lover
will you
continue
to whisper
sweet nothings
in the night
will you snuggle close
and caress its thigh
repeating the words
you’ve said
every night
year
after year
or will you
rise
in fright
when
death
becomes
your lover

spirit of my love…


i see you
in the night sky
outlined in a pattern
of stars
i hear your voice
when the wind
blows through
the tall pines
i feel your lips
against mine
when the rain falls
gently in the spring
and yet
i feel alone
as i walk
from day to day
a shadow
cast by my own
yesterdays

musical trance…

 

during the performance
she stared
out of the corners
of her eyes
into the past
when her lover
was beside her
in a gentle embrace
one of quiet acceptance
of death’s presence
in the room
her hand now
reached for the wine
as the piano solo
pulled her back
to this night
but
only briefly
for the veil
of yesterday
blurred this moment
and her view
returned to that embrace
and
from the corners
of her eyes
tears
reached towards
her heart

the music box…

the music box
has a secret
it will whisper
it to you
in its tune
somewhere in this room
was the beginning of a grave
a small shallow home
in the earth
a place of rest
for a small child
the music box
spends its days alone
no one to play with
no one to abuse it
a jury of her peers
said she alone
was guilty
but the betrayals
of a teenage mother
no money
no lover
no family
no time
no sleep
she
a  l  o  n  e

This poem represents my third response to  the third challenge series between Jade and I.  This challenge is somewhat different in that the prompt is now an audio prompt.  Each poet provides the other with five instrumental songs (so that the song’s words do not interefere with the poet’s) from which the poet is to write a poem.  Jade has written her first response which can be found here

erida’s mist…

with every step forward you take
it flows just below the surface
you sense it as you move
as if someone is mocking you
you smell nothing
feel nothing
but that static
of an approaching storm
you hear nothing
for it’s like a gas
entering the body
through portals of the mind
to incite warfare
to start a riot
or send a lover
into uncontrolled rage
poisonous
corrosive
you feel confused
breathing quickens
lungs burn
heart pounds
you feel a peculiar horror
a feeling that persists
you feel
hated

a lost song…

not one feather
ruffled or out of place
no visible signs of distress
all your colors still bright
as if resting from flight
beside the road
and for one moment
i thought you would fly
but you had lost your song
and so i wonder
my little friend
why you should be here
did your lover break your heart
so badly that it just stopped
were you poisoned
by the promises of friends
thus draining your life spirit
or did you hear the dying cries
of your brothers and sisters
of air and sea
struggling in the gulf
and your heart
just burst with sadness

sea shell…

once
     life
          was within these pearly walls
feeling
      warmth
           like the embrace of a nude lover
now
     only
           the shell remains filled with moss
moss
     growing
           like the hate within her soul

of this i believe…

all the words
and verses had not changed
he had said these words a thousand times
and a thousand times he said them with faith
but today
he felt as if he were just an actor
one waiting for godot
staring out into the sea of souls
some lost among the coral reefs of disbelief
seeking to find the beacon of truth
that would free them from themselves
others
too sure of what they knew
dawned pious smiles when he said
what they wanted to hear
otherwise
they frowned at him
as he stood in the pulpit
he wondered
could he say those words
without
his faith intact
if they sensed his doubt
would they rise up from the pews
and proclaim him a heretic
or claim that their faith was undaunted
by what they had seen in the world
had they studied the word
as a lover studies their love
they would understand its history
but they do not know or care
who the scribes were
those founders of this society of believers
the codependency of this relationship
means he dares not tell them the truth
his cross would be that of the malefactor
who did not repent
but this man has done nothing
his questions have come with age
and studies to find true meaning
just to answer those daunting questions
formed from so many years of religious grief
wondering how men meeting in secret
could design and decide
on what was best for mankind
a committee
producing  sacred writings
marketing their beliefs as if for profit
he wonders am i now a non-believer
or am i like a lover
whose love has waned
over the years
progessing from insatiable passion
to a deeper love and understanding
or is this grounds
for divorce…

For those who wish to read the trigger for this, read: Non-Believing Clergy.
http://newsweek.washingtonpost.com/onfaith/Non-Believing-Clergy.pdf