Tag Archives: rest

Lioness

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Rest.
She sleeps.
Tired from the day, she’s still and cold.
Tired from the blood she’s carried.
Long life past, now she’s old.
Now far from demons she’s long buried.
No regrets, her own grown strong,
They’ll find a new grave to carry
Her to where she can rest from demons wake,
From the words of death she spake,
From what she carried for so long,
So her own to demons pacts
Would not be sold.
Or so I’m told.
She takes this secret to her grave.
The children know of what she gave,
But not of  sacrifices made.

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Puppy Teeth

My struggle with the darkened arms
Of sleep,
The solstice of suffering.
Sleep holds me here, her black arms betray
A sense of woe and sorrow,
Dreading the hour I awake and abandon
My dreaming.
There, much like suffocating,
Pain is but a memory waiting,
Like so many lost puppies
That have followed me home.
This time a mistake:
I’ve given them names to take,
Sleep is no relief as I do not dream.
The puppies teeth are ships that sink
As my flesh becomes a sea.

Stationary

In an end unto our own
Tells not the knell for whom to toll
When endangered, runs from home
One forgets to secure the soul.
Up all hours, a sleepless night,
No rest until dawn, none till twilight.
There is none to be found, why seek?
It is as unreachable as the moons keep.
The ship that is sleep brings no rest
Though it ferries you to dawn,
The waves it rides, reveal at their crest,
You’ve been stationary in this ocean all along.

The Gap

I wait.
Until no longer must I gaze outward towards hallucinations of you.
Too often I pine and you’re not here.
Me away from you.
I hate the gap, I hate the distance.
And hate I must until I can see your face again.
Your love only fills the void.
Touch me.
Let me know you’re with me like words cannot.
I love you.
Until the earth embraces both our bodies and we eternal rest.
To my wife M. D. S. 

Weary Paws

On weary paws
Through stretched out days
Blood stained claws
To memory fades.
“No rest for the wicked”
An unfair sentiment?
Because he’s unrestful
Means he’s not innocent?
Onward he plods
Through wind and though rain.
Those looking down,
Unaware of his pain.
Unaware and uncaring
The crowd stares on.
Mountains cold and glaring,
Bear has been gone so long.
Gone with no place to rest.
His cave found empty
He sleeps. Hoping for the best:
A welcoming dawn to see.

What the Water Gave Her

“So lay me down in the flowing cold,
Sweeping away, I am but a soul.
All that’s left, the beauty around me
It’s its own beholder; it surrounds me.”
So what is given her but fear and lonely dread?
All hope abandoned here, once immersed, one is dead.
But to rise above the waves, one can dream,
And she surely does.
Though little more than that it seems,
Her safety she dearly loves,
Enough to stay on is this mainland,
But will she live with her head in the sand?
What she’s left with is what the water gave her.
Which is little more than enough to enslave her.
Floating by, amongst, beauty that draws in,
She rests her mind as she dreams within.

An elaborate take on my fear of water, and partially inspired by the Florence and the Machine song: “What the Water Gave Me”

Rest.

A day long endured.
He waited so long to rest,
Now much needed sleep.