This poem was a collaboration between my friend Michael over at Morphetroad and myself. He is a wonderful poet. Go ahead and visit him and see what I mean. He has been gracious enough to say yes to my request to help me when needed. Oh boy, he might regret that one! Ha!
The poem might be a tad dark, which is unusual for me, but that’s how it turned out and I thought it was quite good even with the darkness. I couldn’t have done it without Michael’s help.
This is day 2 of NaPoWriMo, hope you enjoy. Please comment as I love them all! Thank you!
The Seven-Twenty whistles by,
Wistfully I try to recall the whistle tone,
But I cannot, my heart is elsewhere.
Your cruel words last night
Have ripped my heart and mind,
I cannot think straight
And so oblivious of reality
I watch in a Dreamscape
Flashes of better days
Loving arms, smiles,
Past happiness now rejected
No subtlety in the slap
That resounded in my world.
Fallen pieces litter my path
Each step an effort, as I drag my loveless self,
Through the motions of living.
Never far from me is your image,
The rage, the terror, the carnage.
I reached out you were not there,
Instead a monster answered back.
Voices unheard before, cutting, slashing,
Leaving me gutted, desolate, sleepless.
Now I need inner strength,
To alone, find peace,
Solitude, safety, myself.
A whistle resonates in the distance,
Now to lose myself as if to the wind.
The Seven-Twenty goes by.