Where it Stops

November 30, 2010 at 8:36 pm (Poetry) (, , , , , , , , )

Sun up and sun down

Round and round we go

We know we’ll stop, but where?

Who knows?

Talk of fire and ice pervades the air

The preachers yell fire and the people fall down

The scientists say ice and the people bow down

Me? I’m indecisive.

But I say: Why not both?

As the Earth stops turning and the icicles form –

The people cry mercy from the fires in Hell.

So, death and destruction

The same old bit

Nothing new under the sun

Dust to dust to light –

Or flames.

Ashes to ashes

They all fall down –

Down, down.

So, fire and ice

The same old poem

He goes up, she goes down

The world turns – until you stop

Where?

You’ll know.

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Bones

May 3, 2010 at 12:02 am (Poetry) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

Mistaken-

She tells me to put

my heart in a box.

She thinks the sight

pains me

but it doesn’t.

It confuses me.

I don’t understand

why these bleak and barren bones

make other people sad-

why it causes them pain.

***I wrote this after watching an episode of Bones where the lovely forensic anthropologist, Dr. Brennan, tells Zack he has to put his heart in a box when looking at the remains of a murdered child. I think the poem speaks for itself.

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Glass and Sand

April 8, 2010 at 12:48 am (Poetry) (, , , , , , , , , )

When the sand has gone

Every last grain

What is left?

The world has ended

No more flowers

No hands or feet

No more minutes, seconds, or hours

The world has ended

Our time has slipped away

Because this hour glass

Held a single grain

And was attached to the table

With our pride and hatred

Our time is up

Just a blip

a passing moment

in the endless stream of time.

***Once again this poem originally had different spacing, let me know if you want to see the original.  I was inspired by Blake to write this, but I think my take is a little bit more morbid than his.  I am generally a dark person, but sometimes my macabre view of life is surprising. It makes me think, how about you?

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