Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Feb 2023 KarmaPolice
Eloisa
Chained
 Feb 2023 KarmaPolice
Eloisa
As naive as the moon,
I often seek light
from the dark.
And as I chased love in my ruins,
I heard his whisper from the wind.
For nights I wander
through my starless, somber sky.
And while I pick up
pieces of my soul,
I felt a soft and sudden brush
to my wings.
His breath wrapped me
with stardust.
His heartbeat was singing
a promise of love.
But I’m a bird.
Still chained to this gloomy sky.
 Feb 2023 KarmaPolice
Kenedie
The beautiful bird sings in the cage
It sings sublime songs of freedom.
It reminds the spirits of all that hear
That their golden hour will come.
The sweet gale is heard through the storm
The bird never stops or falters.
For it knows with the song of its heart
The tune of the harsh rain will alter.
The bird knows someone out there always listens
They always have from the start.
The soul of the bird sings wild and free
Because they know who watches over their heart.
This was a poem based off "Hope is the Thing with Feathers" by Emily Dickson
An old church at the end of the road
Sunflowers spill over the altar
For children grown old.

Alone in the pews
I watch light suffused
Through stained glass windows.

When I was young
And it was my turn
They gave us roses
Told us they still have thorns
Because life would hurt us
When we found it.

Most of us did.

Including me.

Most of us left those four walls.

Most of us moved far away.

Most of us never returned.

Except for me.

The dusty hymnals smell like youth.
The empty sanctuary looks like home.
And I can still see myself by the piano
The sound of my violin
Was bigger than the world.

When it's all over

I step outside and feel the cold.

I was so young.

And now I'm afraid.

I'm getting so old.

I don't know anyone
Filing out the door.
Nobody knows me.

I walk to the B&B.
I ask for a room.
I used to play there so often
They always let me stay for free.


The clerk says it's switched hands
A dozen times or more.
They say the chandelier
Hasn't heard a song in years.

I unpack my suitcase upstairs
And can't help but shed a few tears

For a town
That truly
Forgot
Me.
Loneliness isn't the feeling
of being empty.

It is the ache
that follows
when you try to fill
a broken vessel.

The numbness
of watching yourself
seep through the cracks,
reaching for something
that's long since
slipped away.
a small window
with squeaky clean panes
of glass

pulls in raw sunlight

into a small room
with a slatted wooden floor

where I sit in the corner
on a hardbacked chair

it scrubs and scours
my face

I'm constantly told
not to be so rough on myself

but there are a few things in life
I  can no longer ignore

one being that only the ruthless
survive

Whit Howland © 2020
OK, I am back, temper tantrum has passed. This is an original word painting with a straightforward message.
 Apr 2018 KarmaPolice
Chloe
drifting
 Apr 2018 KarmaPolice
Chloe
existing
sometimes feels
a little like
drifting in space.
Next page