Uncategorized

I Am No Queen

grim

The only thing constant is change. Some stories do not end as you expect and everything happens for a reason.  And it is the grim reaper that people seem to be born to die and some are cursed at birth and one can only play with the cards they are dealt with. You take a deep breath and you jump and you hope that there is water at the bottom of the pool when you land. And there is someone who will not always be there. And the memory of you is forgotten. It is the saddest story ever told. And a bunch of other sayings and philosophies on this blogging day. And so this day seems as if it wants to post that poem below that has found itself on this blog sometime a while ago in an attempt to maintain content for this blog and my other blog whenever blaghers block possible.

I am no Queen
I sit a widow and shall see sorrow
I kannot walk any further
my journey may end here
there are no words to take away the pain
to replace a person who is gone
my eyes are dim and heavy with grief
I kannot close them
I do not wish to see the darkness they hold
this thing which I have greatly feared
has come upon me with trembling
kausing all my bones to shake
I am scared with dreams and terrified
with visions of what will my funeral be like
when I die today at this very moment
will there be a funeral
who will come and who will pay
will they eulogize me and what will they say
leave me to sit and decay
make me your centerpiece in a chair dressed up dead
preserve me with spices, mummify me
let the birds of the air pluck me
the beast of the field tear me
till I be consumed by maggots and
dust and fly away when I die
there hath been no greater love than
that which hath been
it is the sound of Rachael mourning for
the children that never were
no one to comfort her
no where to wail lament save the ocean
why died they not from the womb
why died they not the breast prevent them from suck
why died they not the knees prevent them
why died they not give up the ghost that
no light shine upon this day
cursed be the man that saith the child is born this day
it is the wake of a funeral procession about to begin
it was a sunny day that day across the street from the graveyard
and we all laid down in our coffins to die

Have a great life, death and poetry day.  

Advertisements
Standard

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s