Say goodbye to the war

Detach and draw away
Under the covers
Cold and gray
Endure the cycle of decay
Bury your head
And fill it with dismay

These are the fallacies
We choose to believe
Filling up our heads
Causing us to grieve
Not even worth repeating
Such thoughts are just defeating

So push through and release
While all your troubles
Beg to increase
Say goodbye to the war
The one that’s hidden
Behind your door

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit:  https://pixabay.com/photos/cold-frost-winter-the-disease-2722002/

Self-preservation

I’ve been trying inside to heal
Trying less and less to feel
Having the sudden notion
To shut down every emotion
Slipping farther n farther away
Into the great and vast array
Sitting pretty, proud, and poised
Blocking out the senseless noise
Giving up the pointless need
To let others see me bleed
My pen and paper are enough
No need for feelings on my cuff
This world needn’t know
Where all my sorrows go
With nobody standing in my way
I’ll stand tall for another day
Lips pursed and fists held tight
They’ll never know my inner fight

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/people-woman-girl-standing-alone-2569004/

Something to cling to…

Amid the chaos
of our cluttered world,
sometimes we have only
but a past moment,
something distinctly different
from all the other colorless days.
And that one solitary moment,
the one we treasure
with fondness and love
gives us something to cling to
when we can no longer see
a single thread of light.
Those rare moments exist
to reassure us during the times
when the dark dares
to snuff out our light.
That one blessed memory
is often what unexpectedly
sees us through.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/black-and-white-monochrome-people-2590418/

Burying yesterdays

The afternoon settles
into a quiet calm.
But it’s here
in this noiseless state,
where I find myself interrupted
by restless winds.
Those unexpected currents
stir up buried memories
of regretful sighs
and uneasy bitter truths.
Then with trepidation
coursing through my veins,
a quiet declaration is made.
I move in silent determination,
carefully traversing
those frustrating fields,
where chaotic blooms
begin to mushroom in my mind.
At last taking control,
seizing those past reflections,
wrestling with the delirium
of all those unspoken things.
And finally after hours
of agonizing lamentations,
those lingering grievances
begin to crumble
inside an iron-gripped will.
All those listless thoughts
long in their coming,
turning to ash,
fluttering lifelessly to the ground,
tasting their very last words.

© 2021 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: Pixabay.com

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

*Just needed to repost this today. Been thinking of my grandfather and his patriotism. He was my hero and loved this country more than anybody else I’ve ever known. He gave me my love for the United States of America and taught me to never say an ill word about our country. I love you so much grandpa. You were a rare gem in this world and will never be forgotten by me and all who knew you. May you rest in peace today and always.

Let’s leave the past, to live where it died.

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I keep trying
to forget the past.
To leave all the hurts
buried deep
on that old,
empty road.
The place where
I was deserted,
left choking on remorse.
But everybody
wants answers,
and nobody understands
that I can’t breathe.
And when I’m forced
back on that road,
I can’t heal
or even catch my breath.
The air over there
is stifling.
And so many
broken dreams
are still dangling
in the wind.
I can’t keep
reaching out,
grasping hopelessly
at those lifeless strands.
So please,
I’m begging you,
let’s just leave the past
to live where it died.
Or else this life
won’t be worth living
at all.

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/people-woman-walking-hike-trek-2569740/

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