rust

VSSPoem, Week 4

September 30th

A family gene

that jumped over her
#Charm
She couldn’t

Not with a filthy mouth

or dirty mind

Honesty in every word
She couldn’t

Not with a fearful heart

or dark soul

Her pain wishing to spill
Her family

#Charmed

Friends from foe

Neighbour

Stranger
But not her.

 

October 1st

My #identity is pasted on plastic cards

With a name

My height

My birth date

My address

But I am more

than a shitty picture

and basic details.

 

I have a voice

A face under my mask

 

Paper and Plastic

don’t define me.

 

October 2nd

#Trust is another thing

that rusts.

Breaks like a chain.

Nobody’s mistake.

 

October 3rd

This sword is sharp

Meant to cut

Render flesh

Into ribbons

Draw blood

With a jab

 

It’s thin

Like my #patience

Worn down

By quick words

And quicker stabs

 

Perhaps it’s best

I wield a wooden weapon

 

At least

Until I’ve proven

My #patience is stronger

My lips sealed

 

October 4th

Like a sun inside

The light fades

And #dims to darkness

Hides behind frowns

Forgets how

To even smile

She tries to rekindle

Reignite the flame

But the wick remains

Unburnt

The lighter flashes

To life yet drains away

And she remains

#dimmed

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Savagery’s Cost

Blood fed the barren ground

Bodies decorated it

Like discarded toys.

Swords pierced the Earth

Beside the crippled, lifeless corpses

And yet

There was a Beauty in this Darkness

In the Savagery of War.

Life fled this land

Once rife with the green blades of Grass

Replaced now by blades of Iron and Steel.

For what, they ask

The Glory of Battle, the Honour it gave.

No structures of stone or wood

Stood in sight of the horizon.

A vast Nothingness claimed these lives

And Nature would take its Victims.

Limbs bared to Bones, sinking in dirt.

Rust from fruitless rains would claim the soiled metal.

The Shadows of carrion birds’ wings filled the sky

Their caws shredded the Silence, deafening.

Beaks ripped at stripped Flesh

As the Sun set, its rays of Light frightened by the field.

It seems a Horrible Dream.

An Evil that Desecrates the Human Soul.

Wars are waged, the Cost ignored.

 

 

 

 

Winter’s Come

Red rises in the light of a waning sun.

Dusk conquers the sky, silent and proud,

Before Lady Moon rides her darkness

And claims her throne once more.

From the ground, forests watch the game

Repeated nightly, predictable,

Before turning their eyes inward.

The ground covering their twining roots

Is warmed by bloodied leaves

Dropped from the skyward limbs.

Night’s Queen bids forth the cold

And sends the westward wind howling in the eerie calm.

Fall drifts away, hand in hand with Father Time,

And passes Winter, serene under a clock of frost.

The forests shiver with the change,

Watch drying leaves, rust, crumple, disintegrate.

Dawn sounds the trumpet charge,

Ahead of Lord Sun on his sea of blue,

And chases Lady Moon past the horizon once more.

The trees turn their eyes inward, closing them tight,

Its time to slumber, despite warming rays of light.