THE INTROSPECTION CHRONICLES 10| DRIFTING ASHES
my lips reciting every word,
guiding my hands to each key
as each sound dissolves into me.
A water tank weeps to the earth.
A generating set throbs with need
and someone is drunk again,
banging at the gate with bloody fists.
a used smile strutting every word.
It is fragile this smile of mine -
touch it and it cracks like porcelain.
A baby is crying somewhere
and a mother's soft tones hush hush.
Sing a lullaby with those fireflies flitting by.
I have unused baby things somewhere.
and an entranced moth sizzles to dust.
I have lost my wings now - watch me crawl.
I am writing in the shadows about fading echoes.
Someone yells and a frog croaks.
He asks if I am fine. I feel sorry...
The cigarette has burnt to the stub -
my offerings are finished. I say yes, I am.
The flame dims, he drops his pipe and snores.
I am empty... I cover him with a blanket and gather
our ashes from the rug. This is what we are now -
ashes and dust on the window sill.
Something crashes to the floor next door.
He growls, she whimpers. This is love?
A car backfires or is it a gunshot? who cares?
I have whispered prayers into the night,
called his name, called mine, called hers -
the little box buried with my sleep.
We are words - now on my lips, soon on his.
We are characters - slow fade out.
I have baby things in here somewhere, new things.
The flame blazes and dies. In the silent counterpoint
of his soft snore and my silent tears, I slip away.
warpedpoetic, 2019.
This is stunning. Such a collection of extraordinary and poignant images - human detritus of dust, sounds, longings. Beautiful, as ever. You inspire me to write more poetry - you clearly draw a lot of pleasure from the craft of writing.
Hey @riverflows thanks for stopping by and for your kind words. I am glad i inspire you and i hope you do write more poetry because you write good verses. I do get pleasure from finishing a piece that makes sense. It is one of the few pleasures of my life, i think.
Thanks! Poetry and writing sooth me, too. I always wonder what happens to our brains as kids that make us find comfort in putting sentences together!
For me it was and still is loneliness and being shy around people. There is also my love for words, written words. I have been reading since i can remember. Then there's the truth that i am more articulate when i write than when i speak. Maybe because i write more than i speak the English language, i guess. lol
Honestly? This EXACTLY how I feel. I fumble when I speak, grew up on a diet of literature, and am introspective and introverted. Mostly.
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Yes those are the words; introspective and introverted. That is what i am
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I love this glimpse you have created into this world you write about. You really have managed to paint a whole picture of what surrounds you and also to describe your love for writing at any time come the light or dark. You have such a beautiful way with words xxx
Thank you @trucklife-family. I do love to write. At least it is something i do well, i believe