Between poetry and death.

by Poet on the Piano   Feb 17, 2021


When first faced with my own mortality,
I had little fear.
My pupils were focused, listening.
Don't mistake the lack of cowardice for bravery.
I wasn't brave.
I'd become lost in a world that had promised it
would provide some semblance of comfort,
and instead left me bereft, clinging to any quiet shelter,
craving a gentleness the Earth had forgotten it could possess.

There I stood,
singing dismal hymns at a funeral for the living,
watching the candlelight bounce in response to death.
Perhaps, it was giddy.
Anticipating the great shift.

I still beg for death,
but in less desperate ways.

The winter is brutal yet I find solace in its honesty.
In the icicles hanging like daggers.
In the snow drifts blockading my sanity.
In the shrieks of the wind and memories
that have no hearth to return to.

For now, I will write until dawn,
until I'm able to give up the solitude
of abandoned streets in a town with no future.

In a town that will one day be without me.

    report violation
7


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Latest Comments

  • 3 years ago

    by M.Useless

    I have always claimed funerals are for the living, but this is the first time I've seen pen put it to paper, or in this instance a keystroke to a virtual world. I have been there before. A poignant piece for me. Thank you for sharing.

  • 3 years ago

    by Milly Hayward

    This is a chilling but compelling read. Some very stark vivid visuals here. In particular "Singing dismal hymns at a funeral for the living - serves to reinforce the theme of the writers mortality and that her feeling that her world is dying. Even the weather brings brutality to the piece, emphasising the cold desolation that is surrounding her. Dark indeed. Milly x

  • 3 years ago

    by Everlasting

    Hmm, I have been reading this poem for several times now and I just can’t come up with a good comment.

    Are you alright? It might be the environment that surrounds me, it’s chilly, but I can’t stop feeling like someone gave up. Like it’s depressing. The tone is almost ghostly like . The images are sharp. The honesty is brutal. The words are like those icicles hanging like daggers as I read them. I hope you are doing well. Take care.

  • 3 years ago

    by Keira Pickard

    I have nothing original to comment - I got chills, too!
    Wonderful, excellent imagery :)

  • 3 years ago

    by Star

    I got chills!!!!

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