NaPoWriMo – Day #5


The dead have
their collective hand
on my shoulder

I can feel the pressure
of their words
in the back of my throat

See them gathering
in the shadows behind my eyes

Feel them crowding
my heart

They whisper unkept promises
and lament unfinished lives.
And now time unravels
before them –
an eternity of regret

Another day, another poem.  I’m really a little ray of sunshine lately.  One of these days I’ll post something optimistic again, honest.


NaPoWriMo – Day #4 Out Foxed


Three foxy fates
stand and wait
guarding the pandemic gate

First, Fever Red
straps you in bed
She pounds a beat inside your head

Then Breathless White
steals your might
and seals your labored lungs up tight

Then Deathly Black
knocks you back
takes your soul, leaves your body slack

These fates are ruthless and badass;
unscathed from COVID, none shall pass

This is for NaPoWriMo and The Sunday Muse. Image by Anatasiya Dobrovolskaya.