Am I Losing My Mind?

I vowed not to cave in to my fear, but my heart wasn’t listening and was acting like it was running the race of its life.
The coast was clear but I heard laughter.
Am I losing my mind? Was that the scrape of boots on the hardwood floor?

I dashed behind the cupboard, nearly knocking over my Great Grandmom’s prized antique jars. Which would be worse?
The Karma payback or the wrath of my mother?
Panting, I beg my heart to slow down.
Outside the kitchen window, the ferns waved in the wind. Were they mocking me?
I imagine their response to my imagined intruder. But he’s there! He’s taunting me.
I debate about grabbing a lantern to go outside and confront them all, but this is not a Dickens’ novel and I’m not dressed properly.

Fear be gone!
I am strong.
I yank open the freezer door and pull out my beloved Ben & Jerry’s (New York Super Chunk) and (Cookie dough). These troubling times call for backups. I reach for a spoon reminding myself that by not putting it in a dish, this will save water.
That’s my good deed for the environment.
My inner critic tells my thighs to expect company.
My heart is back to normal. Fear a distant memory.
Resolutions are made to be broken.

Poem Three

Faith
Good, bad
You decide
Just remember
It always a leap
So you may
Stumble or fall
From the leap
But
Get back up
And leap again

At all costs

Purge yourself,

Drain the hideous from your soul.

Cradle the holy,

Allow your words to console.

Wring out the fear,

Brought on by the flood.

When your pen runs out of ink,

Refill it with your blood.

 

 

Passing

Now,
every clock
ticks the minutes
with the same
don’t-go,
please-go
cadence
as the one across
from the hospital bed,
in the emergency room,
at hospice.
Even time says
its goodbyes.

1pm

Parts of me

are fully into it

the other half

is so distant

i can’t even hear my pen

usually it’s screaming by now

am I holding back

keeping in…

Nothing to do

Time goes by with nothing to do,

Time flies when you have lots to do

Time waits on no one

Time wasted can not be fined

A time to sleep

Atime to weep

A time to stop and think

What next, am I doing my best!

Abnormal

This is where I come
to feel normal.

I stand here accusingly looking
at angels in the back of a cave.
I’m just a normal girl,
wish I was just
a bit more feminine.

I kick at creeping shadows
casting spells over the angels.
Screaming in my head
and watch the echoes
take roller-coaster rides
on the empty spaces that
bounce off the inner walls
that is my empty soul.

I need something for protection,
I’m sinking into the solid ground
and don’t know how to swim away.
There are no waves to make me drown
Please, please, let the rain come down!
Falling into this dry sea…
No, no emotions to wash away with me!
I am drowning on dry ground!

100 Angels grab my hart
as I wage wars on myself.
I’d cut them loose,
but then I’m left to wipe
the blood from their eyes,
begging them not to bother
with things that won’t
give in to change.

I say bye after a while
and hope to draw at least one smile.
I leave the angels there in that cave
and run so fast, so far away,
I hope to never cross their minds again.
Although I want to make them
feel how much it hurts to miss me.

I’ve got to …
Hang up the phone…
Close the website…
Ignore the e-mail…

Because,
this is where I come
to feel normal.

The Raging and Consuming War of The Poetics

Part V

Stuck inside the bunker,
I began to scratch my story
on the sides of the bunker walls;
I simply stated in the essence of dust –

THE RAGING POETICS
FOUGHT HERE ON THIS DAY…
EVERYONE SURRENDERED.

– Michellia D. Wilson 8/23/14 NOON

Prompt for Hour Five

Death is the theme of many poems and the preoccupation of many poets. Still after all this time poets are churning out new and intriguing approaches to death in poetry.

The goal of this prompt is to write a poem about death. The death you write about could be imagined, personified, personal, true, or false. The details of this prompt are entirely up to you.