3 posts tagged “poem”

The Shell of You

I remember laughter.
The sound of it tickled my ears,
reverberating a bitter-sweet after-taste of a memory.
My smile used to woo the corners of my eyes into a joyous furrow.
The warmth of its lovemaking left on my cheeks, a rosy stained hue.
The unabashed candor of my steps,
once a waltz I had thought would not end. 
It's destination humming a happily ever after.
Then like an eerie sound of quiet,
you clamor into my life.
Your presence an inky blackness, 
wrapped around my neck, a snake in a choking coil.
Your empty promises and whispers of love,
weighed heavily upon my steps, 
a chain and ball to my dance.
Time passed quickly.
Life, a distant light in the grimy void of a tunnel.
Into your bleak future, I am embraced.
At last, your demise is complete.
I stand before you, a broken mirror. 
Look at me. 
Am I what you wanted?
Look at me.
The shell of you.

Written by:

~Mercy Brianne Luis~

Walking down a lonely road
a weary young soldier went.
His head bent low, his expression grim,
his chivalrous spirit spent.

Gone were the days of playful laughter,
days of youthful vigor forgotten.
Gone was the dream of life ever after,
a fruit that had been so sweet, now rotten.

His gallant white steed now dirty and weak,
sorrow clung to him like grime and sweat.
Posture slumped and emotions bleak,
down that lonely road he went.

Wanting the light to set him free,
he limped to the church below.
His soul in pain, in agony,
his search for solace amongst the sorrow.


Written and Revised by: Mercy B. Luis

Suspended over earth, univers' footstool,
sweeping slowly, a snail's pace
water gathers through invisible veins.
Soon it will fall, scattering tears,
resting to weep out sorrows held long.

Sadness thickens every drop, the thickness of blood.
I have covered the blue with heavy pain.
The earth now knows grief,
like bullets tearing through skin.

Struggling on to a distant non-existant goal,
to disappear wholly as so many have done before,
sorrow has finally relented,
its grasping claws cease to exist,
vanishing with impatient winds.

All is well again.
I am happy, floating freely once more,
to play against man's imagination,
taking forms of all shapes and sizes.

Suspended over earth, univers' footstool,
sweeping slowly, a snail's pace,
I am no longer a Gray, Dark Cloud.