Unable

September 23, 2009



The dead have told a tale,
About the living death.
They found the darken pale,
And the elapsed breath.

His skin was washed-out
His gasp left long before he knew,
Yet his life remained hidden about
In his body it lingered & grew.

His life grew strong enough
For him to get up & stand,
To him was painfully tough
His verve he did not understand.

He was a tired warrior
Looking for the everlasting meadow
To bravely cross the translucent mirror...
Now, he is a mere shadow.

This soldier’s soul gave its last breath
Yet, his body denies to usher
To the young was rebuffed death.
But, it is not he it is she.

The dead have told a tale,
About the living death
They found a youthful female,
That thought of her last breath...

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Come see, come see! Winter is here again... and... it knows me?

 October 7, 2009 Wintery fall days have finally arrived, as a sneak preview of what the future holds come the 31st of October. Last night it rained for the first time; the sky went grey and the wind picked up singing as it danced in between the leaves and trees, creating a cacophony of whimpering sounds to the tempo of a soft toc-toc-toc as the fat shiny drops of rain flatten themselves onto the cement floor of my backyard. It made me smile, as I open the door and was met with this small wonder of weather where before was nothing but sun and still somewhat suffocating heat. We are surely walking to winter and I am intrinsically happy for it. Not just because I love all seasons and was looking forward to wearing closed shoes and my long unused sweaters and warm jackets, but also because I find that out of the four seasons, winter agrees the most with me and my mood. Don’t get me wrong, I fancy myself a happy, easy going person, with a funny and witty stre...
Read more

Of nails and hate, are made my day's fails

September 14, 2009 Today I remembered why I had only painted my nails twice in the last year, when it has always been something I enjoy doing… For the simple reason, that I hate dramarama. I hate it with a vengeance known only by those who dared rise against Sparta only to be crushed at the Gates of Thermopylae. Perhaps it has to do with always being in the middle, or in the periphery, of some or other useless argument in my home. My father is the specialist of drama and pulls everyone along. In this case though, I understand his point of view and his reasons to an extent; nail polishes do have a very active smell and he has sensitive lungs due to having had asthma. I say had because it seems to be more a case of hypochondria than something else, as he totally forgets he needs the pump while something that interests him is happening, but as soon as it is relevant to someone else he gets all upset and wheezy. But as I’m not a cold hearted bitch I’ll admit varnish scre...
Read more