small stones – February 6, 2016

Winter

art credit: Winter by Tim Huhn

early morning chill
bites clean to the bones
a harsh reminder
winter lingers still

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Bid Me Rest – Poetry

Death hangs over me
like storm clouds
I am mere bones
feigning to be whole

If you look closely
you can see
my skeletal sockets
where blue eyes
once shined–now empty
lifeless, no beauty

See these arms?
Trace each scar
feel each vein, deaden
I’ve leeched
blood too often
no pulse

And this battered heart?
A fisted stone, hardened
by years of love lost
beats became stillness
even you cannot spark
a rapid response
no currents

I am dead
reduced to bones
bury me
and bid me rest!

©January 2016 Lori Burks

A Waste of Time – Poetry

cemetery at night

I’ve trespassed this cemetery before
in search of your bones
I can still hear their rattle
a child’s toy
like the games we once played

I’d close my eyes, counting
you’d zigzag through stones
then duck and hide
your bones chattering
against cement
you could never hold still

I pretended to search
to give you a moment’s reprieve
a semblance of sanity
as I called out long lost ghosts
and then popped out behind you
your hair standing on end
as fright overcame you

It was a waste of time
to include you
to hope you’d enjoy these outings
the longing, the need
to be one with you there
but you were never one for the dead

I lived for the dead
slept upon gravestones
curled up in freshly dug earth
made love there, under darkness
I wanted to share this with you

It was you
who claimed I shared nothing
that I held back
kept you at a distance
roamed the streets in the night
without you
but you couldn’t understand my desires
the uncontrollable need for Death
You questioned everything
the darkness that sustained me
the need for moonlight upon my skin
the unquenchable thirst of blood
from His cup

And even when Death claimed You
You knew
I would walk these graves
call out your ghost
sleep upon your marker
and waste my time here, forever
with you

©March 2015, Lori Carlson