One Unsympathetic Night

 

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There was a time, long long ago,
when grief consumed and controlled me.
Desperate thoughts and delusions
carpeted the walls of my mind.
And if memory serves me correctly,
it all began one unsympathetic night.

I was lost in empty thought.
Resting quietly,
against the old familiar comforts,
which only a saggy, depleted featherbed can give.

But powdered blue notions,
ran rampant that eve,
spinning a trap, right in front of my eyes.
And nothing could have prepared me
for the ambush; I was about to face.

Typically, I have always been on the offensive,
but that night, I was taken by complete surprise.
It seemed as if a tornado,
one filled with erratic and overemotional thoughts,
had somehow landed on top of me.

I felt my chest tighten,
surrounded by every last unfortunate thought I’d ever had.
Even the cuckoo down the hall
seemed to chime a little less enthusiastically
as I wrestled with my mind.

Every hope, wish, dream,
seemed to vanish into thin air.
I was left nauseated by midnight blue reflections,
and I laid there motionless,
desperately waiting for dawn to arrive.

At first light, I knew something was still terribly off.
I became temporarily crippled,
the fear of ignorance—all-consuming.
The overwhelming feelings,
ones comprised of dolor and distress,
clung to the recesses of my troubled heart.
I was quite literally suffocating,
in-between swells of uncertainty.

It wasn’t long before mama came looking for me.
I must’ve had the look of death itself,
as the light in her eyes
grew instantaneously dim.

Mama worked to make sense of my sickly state,
and I tried to give her all that remained of my spirit.
But my half-smile looked more like a frown,
and there was just no way of deflecting
all the worry situated in her gaze.

I knew right then and there;
mama had recognized my face as her very own.
It seemed the dispiritedness in our humble abode
had finally caused the undulating waters to reach me.

As I now reminisce,
recalling the details of that one unsympathetic night,
I realize just how long it’s taken for the floodwaters to recede.
And even though the waves have since quieted,
I am still not the same girl I once was.

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/sleep-bed-sheets-covers-comforter-839358/

 

Now the winter shivers

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Now the winter shivers
In this barren land.
Near and far the echoes
Without a welcome hand.

Now the winter clamors
As naysayers pave the way.
The vile commence each battle
What more is there to say.

Dimmer than the most atrocious
On the crowning of darkest night.
Sure-footed soldiers march into battle
Prepared for one more fight.

The world lies in anguish
No longer praying for relief.
Smack dab in the pit of sorrow
Buried in inescapable grief.

© 2019 Michelle Cook


The rhyme and meter of this poem, were inspired by the poetic works of Edna St. Vincent Millay, who wrote “Autumn Chant,” which can be found here.

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/kz-kz-dachau-konzentrationslager-2063339/

 

Words

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Words
I wrestle with them.
Some are just worth fighting for.

And even one good word can make life worth living — bringing hope to a day, which might otherwise be dark and dismal.

But a bad word can be so disheartening — often reminds me of a rosebud that wilts before it ever has the chance to bloom.

If only our words could always be like rainbows,
we’d never have to feel so gray.

© 2019 Michelle Cook

The blahs

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I often find
I’ve no words to say
Especially at
The end of the day

But inspiration can
Bring all kinds
Softly nudging ideas
Right into my mind

And I think about some
Who haven’t written
Two months, three days
Since the writing bug’s bitten

And let me tell you
It affects me too
All those words
They used to spew

Now they’ve just left me
Without hardly any hope
It’s the reason I often
Just wanna mope

You see…that’s what
Sadness does
Makes you miss
All that was

And yeah I know
I’m not making much sense
Thankfully dispiritedness
Isn’t an offense

© 2018 Michelle Cook


Originally written; October 2018

A sliver of hope

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Blood rushing through veins
Coursing so fast
Trying to escape
The source of its past
For the heart is full
Of evil and deceit
Tainted even more
By the devil at her feet
And lips turn bright red
With the taste of regret
And everyone’s surprised
Death hasn’t claimed her yet
But she has a secret
A cure hidden deep within
A sliver of hope
Found where it’s always been

© 2018 Michelle Cook

Deliverance

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Sinking beneath
The waves of regret
She remains so lost
No rescuer yet

And though she prays
For a wave of relief
She’s still consumed
By unending grief

Tonight she knows
She can’t continue on
By morning she feels
She’ll finally be gone

And so with ease
She lets herself fade
Telling herself
She can’t be afraid

By dawn her body
Will be limp and still
No longer used
As some cheap thrill

© 2018 Michelle Cook

The Perfect Color

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Robin’s egg blue
Takes me back to you

You were the loveliest creature
I memorized your every feature

But cornflower days
Were never long stays

I had you for just a short while
Amidst the decaying dandelion pile

You should’ve had more
A bit of forest green to explore

Instead the pacific blue
Became your life-long hue

Those sea green and periwinkle days
Formed all of your mahogany ways

You stayed purple mountain majesty true
To your olive green and cadet blue

Carnation pink and brick red brown
Followed you into the burnt orange ground

And bittersweet left the taste of gray
As the sky-blue in your eyes faded away

 

© 2018 Michelle Cook

Lavender Love

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She just wanted
What he could never give
A life spent together
To be loved and to live

But he could never see
Beyond his own ambitions
Causing her to question
His silent omissions

Still she remembers
The days of lavender love
Those are the memories
She thinks most of

But those were just dreams
Conjured by her naïve mind
And she can’t forget
How he left her behind

© 2018 Michelle Cook


For a month full of writing prompts click here!  Lavender Love