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shotgun revelation
by Rachelle Howenightmares riddle
an anguished mind.
each vision fills my eyesight
with horrific views,
each tainted memory
burned into transition.
i was covered in mud,
my face buried in the cement.
i taught someone
that being nice was
a way of breathing;
she simply spit me
out of her mouth.
i've been shot to death
for the eleventh interval,
my heart beating
until the final thread, but
even in the face of the grim,
i smile:
i may wake up
this time. 11/29/2003 Author's Note: there is so much that i want to get out, but it falls short, and withers. forgive me for even posting this.
Posted on 11/29/2003
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristine Briese on 11/29/03 at 08:42 PM Wrenching and real, and bittersweet. |
| Posted by Lindsay Sanders on 11/30/03 at 08:48 PM forgive you for posting such a beautiful and recondite piece? never, my friend, never. |
| Posted by Philippa Jane on 12/01/03 at 05:08 AM "i taught someone/that being nice was/a way of breathing" I find those lines in particular to be intriguing.. and hopeful. Wonderful work. |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 12/01/03 at 11:35 PM "i taught someone
that being nice was
a way of breathing;
she simply spit me
out of her mouth." Splendid line. I don't know all of what you are trying to get out.... thus I do not know if you fell short. But I do know you shouldn't feel sorry for posting this. Great read. |
| Posted by Ginette T Belle on 12/02/03 at 09:00 PM i know how you feel dear but this poem falls together really well...love the second last verse completely...such pure elegance should never apologize for their work... |
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