Skip to main content

The Not-There Woman.....


She may not be seen,
she may not be felt.
No noise she makes,
no breath she takes.

Don't make a sound,
try not to be found.
She might not be there,
but, she's always around. 

Sleeping for years,
her soul broken down.
Waiting for fools,
her ruined mortal tools.

Seek not her form
bereft and forlorn.
You'll regret your regard,
your spirit well worn.

Your energies drained,
your passions wrung out.
She takes your life's light,
drinks all your heart's fight.

You'll find no relief,
no easy release.
Her not-there clutches,
defy all belief.

She'll hold you in sway,
you think you'll survive.
You'll never admit,
your life is forfeit. 

Stand back, my dear friend,
don't let herself win.
I'll walk in your stead,
my life's at its cruel end.

                                                                                                                                      --e.a.s. demers



Comments

  1. Ah, the ghosts. We do feel them sometimes, and they're hard to escape.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Agreed - life sucks sometimes - like the dark poetry, though...

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Share your thoughts!

Popular posts from this blog

A-Z Reflections, year 4....

A-Z blogging challenge for 2014 has come and gone, seemingly without my realizing it. And, though I fell behind once or twice toward the end, I finished this year's challenge right on time. Really, I can't believe it's already over. I feel like I just finished my post for letter A... Year 4, for this blogger, was a far cry from the tortured state of despondency that was most of  Year 3 -- I'll not mention the irony of this year's focus on death being easier to blog about than last year's foray into supernatural creatures, we'll leave that for my therapy sessions *ahem* As always, A-Z brought with it, not only 26 days of unbridled and far-reaching knowledge (disguised as entertaining and thought-provoking blog-posts), but a chance to connect with new faces while reconnecting with familiar faces--who had perhaps drifted away--from A-Z's past.  I am always amazed by the ingenuity and inspiration that comes from lumping a couple thousand folk...

Bitter Honey

Weaving dreams of beguiling gold, a future's price for happiness. What secrets do you, determined, hold? asks the summer wind's soft caress. A guarded name, a hidden hope. Spinning wheels clutching time, grasping straw that falls away, What dreams may come, we soon may find, won't recall at end of day. A cherished life, a memory lost.

K is for Kelpie.....

Today's entry is dedicated to my wonderful social club pledge sister, who sent me off from our college sanctuary with a copy of "Scottish Folk and Fairy Tales", containing an inscription that the "magic and mischief of the Kelpie follow me".... She knew I had an affinity for water and for mischief...and for all-things Celtic--so the Kelpie seemed to suit---- though, I'm not quite as savage as many folktales paint Kelpies. Kelpies are Celtic water horses, believed to haunt the lochs and rivers of Scotland and Ireland. The Kelpie was known to appear as a "lost pony", though, its identity is given away by its constantly dripping mane. Most stories give the color of the Kelpie's coat as black, though there are a few that mention the color white. The texture of the Kelpie's skin is likened to the smoothness of a seal, but its temperature is "cold as death to the touch." Like many other tales of supernatural creatures, the Kelpie...