The moon splintered the night, that dark night so many moons ago when time and trouble merged along the coastal plain of trust and tears.
Plumes of smoke rose in the distance as she stood in the doorway of fate, wondering where the spinning wheels took him as he turned the bend.
The bleak night promised her nothing. After all, she was a broken promise herself, dust and dim commingled in her black dress, a dress of betrayal and dangling dreams.
Little did she know that she'd wear it again, silent as the stone that had become of her heart, his feet pointed east in eternal retreat, while his two daughters stood beside him.
His best friend crept into their home as he had crept into her bed, slithering like a snake. Petals fell to the floor, the petals of tears, the tears of two daughters turned to spine.
After all, they were the backbone of his legacy, his beautiful sorrow spun in their youth, a dark medley of time disconsolate, a cold rain on the nape of night's narrow neck.
They are left with the moon, weeping, his absence falling from the sky as a spray of stars shimmers, reflected in the black tide, the grief of time.
The darkness drips in damp corners, trickling down the curve of her frown as she recounts that night, that dark night, when he discovered her broken moon.
It splintered his heart, pierced his soul, left him mangled beneath that old oak among the corpse of his metal car. He planted himself toward the sun.
His daughters grew taller, two candles, burned out of her life with a trace of smoke. She wept as they fled into the dream of the dawn, leaving her to her darkness, her broken moon.
The pale lace of her complexion trembled in the whisper of wind that was her shame. She could never admit that she was wrong; and for this, they are gone.
She stood in the doorway of decision and gave nothing, took her good-bye and shoved it into the pocket of hate, slamming the door against herself.
She could warm a man's bed but never her heart.
Now she sleeps alone, no matter whom is beside her, an empty soul that no longer believes in fulfillment. She doesn't hear the hoot of the owl in the night, doesn't care for the wisdom that comes with age.
And I'm her daughter ...
A leaf blowing in the wind, that once fell upon her, that she quickly brushed away without notice.
And I'm her legacy ...
I can only say that I think I deserved better.
She made a promise to honor and cherish. Why couldn't that have been enough? Trapped between two panes of broken glass, I see holes in the past and holes in the future.
A cold wind blows through me, a moonbeam shining a light on the dark of my past, a place where I hug the silence in retrospect, contemplating the certainty of what will never be.
The deepest loss is wed with infidelity, where black night straddles her dark sin, and lowers her skirt over the sun. The heat of her breath burns the night.
There's a pulse in her wrist but no beat in her heart.
Shall I blame it on the moon hanging in the sky? Does one blame a mirror for itself being broken? I don't know; it is what it is ... broken, a shattered reminder of what should have been, and minute reflections of what will never be.
I think either of these couplets briefly explain this 'Longest-poem-I've-ever-read' :D
"The bleak night promised her nothing.
After all, she was a broken promise herself"
and
"I don't know; it is what it is ... broken,
a shattered reminder of what should have been" :)
I myself am amazed because I just browse through very long poems (I've come across long poems only very hardly). But I read each and every word of this, that's because you made me to. :) There are far too many phrases and favorite stanzas to quote in this review.
I'd say this is an extraordinary work and it's pretty hard to see free verse from you, Am I right? :D :) A well put Elegy :)
To pull this up as a feature poem at this time makes me question if it is something that weighs heavy on your heart. It is very obvious that it's a personal story, but you have told it is a magnificent way. so powerful and full of emotions.
My heart goes out to you, as I can tell you feel quite strongly about the subject, and I am guessing there is something going on in your life that this relates to, especially at this time.
I hope you find solace in knowing that so many people can relate to this, although I know that doesn't make it any easier to live with.
Hello, Trace, and Happy New Year. I actually chose this as a featured poem as it's one of the few n.. read moreHello, Trace, and Happy New Year. I actually chose this as a featured poem as it's one of the few narrative pieces that I've written without the structure of rhyme and meter. While the structured form is definitely my favorite, I feel this has merit as well. Yes, it's true; and it's an ugly truth. Still, I think there's beauty in it as well.
I hope you have a great weekend.
I'm guessing you'd probably prefer the one I was going to feature, which I'll change it to now. :-)
10 Years Ago
I enjoy all types of writing, but it must keep my attention. this did from start to finish.
I.. read moreI enjoy all types of writing, but it must keep my attention. this did from start to finish.
I think it is very good, but don't let me stop you from showing me more of your talent.
I like your style.
Trace
10 Years Ago
I just featured "Brush and Canvas." I think it will definitely appeal to you, if you choose to read.. read moreI just featured "Brush and Canvas." I think it will definitely appeal to you, if you choose to read it.
Very nice work. The story builds slowly as it should with a topic like this, i.e., something that is cold and destroys a lifetime. And I like the way you've made the story personal to the author. There is the story, but this is punctuated by commentary. And this is not over-done. That's what makes it so effective.
The use of the moon here is unique :)
Lovely poem, time and the moon fused together in a manner that shatters the mind!
Great poem, beautifully penned!
xx
I really liked the usage of "moon" to describe time. This gives the poem a decidedly wistful tone, and proceeds to see the protagonists from heavenly eyes. The emotions, though heart warming, are not driven into the reader, but just described plainly, as if just informing us of what has happened. As if someone just saw these things happening. Till the sentence "And I'm her daughter". And the poem just blew me away from then. Particularly the statement "There's a pulse in her wrist but no beat in her heart. " That was just awesome. The conclusion is terrific. I loved reading this poem.
Linda Marie; This could not have declared the emptiness of a childhood lost in the ignorant blindness of her parents with more poignancy or angst and yearning for love than this. This is obviously an "invisible" childhood drenched in the selfishness of two unrequited Souls. I know this better then I know the back of my own hand. Unfortunately we are not alone in our experience with uncountable broken hopes and shattered dreams. Tattered, torn and charred Angel wings blown into the murky clouds a broken heart. This is a touching piece of a hope,a love and a nurturing warmth that never was. On the brighter side, we are more resilient than could ever be imagined, as this sad and sorrowful piece of art proves. A most incredible and painterly tale. Excellent read and beautifully written with your unparalleled savoriness of language.
this is superb work, you've written really brilliantly here.
"Shall I blame it on the moon hanging in the sky?
Does one blame a mirror for itself being broken?
I don't know; it is what it is ... broken,
a shattered reminder of what should have been,
and minute reflections of what will never be. "
epic words!!
"The darkness drips in damp corners,
trickling down the curve of her frown
as she recounts that night, that dark night,
when he discovered her broken moon"
Hauntly gorgeous! What a muse pain can be ey? This is so well crafted and lush it was like being on a roller coaster reading it. I loved it!
i like the flow for being a semilonger poem it was an easy read i liked it so i made it through gladly., alot of poems drag on and i dont think this one did i think you did good!
Poetry has been my passion since I was about fifteen years old, and I love the structure of rhyme and meter moreso than just randomly throwing words upon a page without any form whatsoever.
Whi.. more..