Tag: poem

Time

~ Meg ~ 34 Comments

Time ~ A Poem

Ticking clocks and Westminster chimes
The infernal tolling of bells
Time, time taking its toll
Leaving behind desiccated remains
Holes carved in weary hearts
Two halves cleaved from the whole
All you ever wanted was someone like me
All I ever wanted was to be somebody else
If you could just heal the divide in me
Maybe I could breathe life back into you
Restore in me the will to live
Restore in us both the hope to love
Silence the clocks and stop time

[Illustration my own.]

White Flag

~ Meg ~ 19 Comments

A poem by Meg Sorick*

It’s a war of attrition
When the cease fire is ordered
No one knows who gave the command
The result is a stalemate
Neither side can claim victory
Even though both will
And as the soldiers wearily lay down their weapons,
Trudge, exhausted from the field
Someone raises a white flag on the line
Amidst the rubble
When the smoke clears
There is nothing but devastation
As far as the eye can see

*This piece was originally a second stanza to the poem I posted a couple weeks ago: The Last Scene. I separated the two, even though the theme is the same, the structure was different. At some point I may reconstruct both parts into one poem … if I can figure it out. Because this is not about war, and The Last Scene is not about theater, they are allegorical. I feel like there needs to be another concluding stanza as well. Poetical insights welcome.

~The illustration is my own~

Presque Vu

~ Meg ~ 22 Comments

A poem by Meg Sorick

Presque Vu

Close your eyes and listen
An old song you used to know
A memory hovers at the edge of your mind
Soft words whispered
An evening’s secrets
Before the rain came
Smell the ozone in the air
And run for the shelter
As the downpour soaked us through
The drumming on the tin roof
Matching the beating of two hearts
Is it a memory or a remembered daydream?
A figment of the imagination
Alive only in your mind
Just out of reach, presque vu

Just a note… this poem was inspired by one I wrote when I was 17 years old. Full of angst and heavy with teenage dread, the poems I composed as a young woman are unpublishable now. But… from within, I can pull ideas and even a few lines. ~Meg