5 posts tagged “poetry”

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~

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.

Today was a day full of changes yet to make,
for wishes yet to grant,
for dreams yet to wake.

Today was a day full of joys yet to bring, 
for smiles yet to form,
for angels yet to sing.

Today marked the climax of lives yet to end,
for tears yet to shed,
for the prideful yet to bend.

Today marked the day of happiness yet to cease,
for wars yet to fight,
for prayers yet to bring peace.

Today is the yesterday.
We have yet to live for tomorrow.

Colors combined, 
a shitty painting without shape
making me dizzy. 
Voices as one, relentless, pounding wave.
Don't scream! 
How many fingers???... 
How the hell should I know? 
Figures moving too fast to catch, 
receding figures deprived of actual solidness 
teasing me with a glimpse of this and that. 
Muffled words escape dry desert lips;  
incoherent sentences seem to make sense to me.
Intoxicating aromas tempt senses long forgotten. 
Laughter bubbles up inside 
as I watch my feet move back and forth below, 
a blurry pair of black leather horses. 
Tripping, falling, stumbling incessantly, 
Tumbling along a kicked bouncing ball having no destination, 
embracing nearby walls as one would embrace a lover, 
a human rubber-band. 
Awareness slowly leaves my body, 
it's slow withdrawal the draining of blood, 
the element of life receding without effort by invisible fangs of a prey.
Sleep possesses every bone, every limb in this shell of a body
and like an unborn child, 
I am suspended in a void, 
only to awake to a blinding new day,
to face a mundane world of the normal.
The visions of the surreal setting the night before,
the memory of pleasure, 
now a regretful past-time. 
My brain, being dragged through shards of sharp glass,
heightens the feeling of regret as I stare dumbly at the stark white ceiling 
above me,
only to mutter once more... 
"Hangovers are a bitch." 

What talent do you have that you wish more people would recognize?

I wish I was artistically talented instead of artistically challenged. Yes I love writing poetry or composing blogs, but there is that yearning for something more. I guess you could say that I feel very limited when it comes to wanting to express myself in more ways than one. It seems as if writing everthing down for people to read and to know you as a person is very formal and technical. On the other hand, if I knew how to draw others in to who I really am by painting my soul out for them, it would be such a great feat for me.

I have been practicing, but for some unkown reason, my hands seem to have developed a mindset of their own and have rejected the whole idea altogether. Thus far I have only succeeded in stressing myself more with my efforts. Which is why I have taken to doing the next best thing.

Coloring books. I've realized they are great for the practice.