11/22/18
To stay alive, to stay alive
A sentence of shivers and pines.
What does it mean to stay alive?
Can you feel the cold air
Thrumming into you, feel the pain
Of lances in your breast?
Daggers of wind, raw sunset
A lake in slumber, never dreaming
A finger slim and never touching.
A glass display of emerald, ruby
A longing to trace but never to wear
To keep within an exhibit,
Flaunting only to the young ones
Who are dancing on the moon without a care.
Hard rocking branches tumbling together
A mold without a casing
Forever falling but never chasing
Feeling an ache but never crying.
The pines shed tears for you,
They do--among the stark of night
Secluded in rafters of powdered white.
They weep for you, for the shuddering
Earth, that spins in rotation
But's never alert, never seeing
Never witnessing the vastness it
Swallows, never seeing the joy it
Creates, the sadness, the consuming
Emotion--the things it cannot feel.
Oh Earth, I weep for you as well.
I weep for your sleeping life.
NOTE: Since I didn't do a Thanksgiving-themed poem or write today, I'll do one tomorrow. It'll probably be cheesy. But doesn't everything about love and family sound cheesy? Whatever. I'll try to be less judgy on myself.
--KingfisherBirdLady
YOU ARE READING
Hello, November
PoetryThis is a collection of my writings from November 2018. It's a continuation of "Poetry" and "Poetry and Writes", but will be much shorter. I'll try to write something each day of the month and post as I go--even if what I've written sucks. Who care...
