No more

Arms raised in face of love’s expectant, failed hopes,
reaching for the bones of lost relationship, striving
to connect through clouds of deep misunderstanding;
confusion in a fog does tease at broken history; chokes.

Leaping through the thoughts and fears which huddle,  hide,
like dry leaves in a teacup, fate does seek to read,
once drowned in liquid calm devotion, now consumed;
on the air the whispers come of you, and fallen pride.

Dreams like splintered slate are strewn upon mind’s roof,
and reason stumbles on through frozen, raging sleep,
nurturing roots of bitter weeds that logic’s gutters hold;
grief’s hollow stare is fixed, on vision’s early harvest – truth.

Time rushes, drenching rains through all the years we shared,
floods deep the planet, where once we were complete,
those cities of belief now unusable, hidden in suffocated days;
damp dust creeps on eternal; memory’s ageing wicker unprepared.

How slack became the tightly woven canes of all our hopes,
the twist and fold of where we once could safely, surely sit,
feathers  of certainty, dropped in silence, like a  dying  swan;
great bird of passion quiet at last and our tryst full revoked.

Two breaths once held together, in safe and soulful store,
alive like petals, crouching, cradled on some fragrant rose,
bells of future used as synchronistic tunes to sing us on;
now each gentle bosom beats alone – love gone, it is no more.

Laurie: arms failed bones
Priti: clouds leaping fog
Annell: teacup broken history
Jules: calm devotion drowned
Laurie 2: air whispers you
Hannah: slate stumbles splintered
Nicole: roots sleep frozen
Emangster: gutters stare rushes
Amy: harvest unusable planet
Irene: dust wicker slack
Abby: fold swan Cities
De: petals breaths quiet
Debi: store time alive
Sara: tunes used bells
Marian: gentle bosom alone

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to No more

  1. Arms raised…reaching for the bones…I could well–or ill–comment
    on each phrase of your poem, Ros. ALAS…
    my heart has never beat alone,
    nor love evaporated.

    What left me–so many times–was awareness of the fact that if I BE KIND to another, it will usually be returned. I became WARY of everything instead of AWARE of everything. And so four wives later, I am not self-sad so much any more, but rather grateful for the opportunity to know so many, to be taught, to see wounds heal in ways unimaginable.

    Every time I drank did not precipitate chaos, but
    every chaos was born from booze ot drugs.
    OH! How wonderful to be F R E E !!!

    Sincerely my prayer for you is that you find your “freedom-from-anxieties” NOW, and give all your fear(s) to a Greater Power Who can handle them better. BUT IS IT NOT WEIRD that emotional pain can empty itself in such beautiful words in poetry (yours!)….
    PEACE and LIGHT, Ros.

    • rosross says:

      Thanks Steve for your time and words. While the poem does reflect an experience of pain it is not about partners in any specific sense but about love of another and others in general. And yes, emotional pain is often the source of great, rich beauty in word and it is often easier to write from a place of pain than a place of pleasure. I do have freedom from anxieties in that I believe everything happens for a reason and is an opportunity to learn and to grow. But thanks for your kindness.

Leave a Reply

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

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

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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 )

Connecting to %s