wandering

Wandering
August 8, 2007
msa

My heart has broken
into thousands of pieces
Blood pours from the bruised and
tattered edges of my soul
And pain should enshroud me
yet all I am is numb,
able to feel nothing

Without your soul here
to hold me
my own cannot fly
Without you
I am incomplete
I am lost,
left destitute
to stand among the remnants
of a thousand daydreams

Take me with you
Hide me away
in your soul forever
Drink my tears of blood
My love your sustenance
The remnants of my soul
your comfort…

disclaimer: poetry and fiction snippet content are my own original content. unauthorized reproduction of any post content, without prior written permission, is in direct violation of applicable copyright laws.

Advertisements

words

Words

words
dancing in my head
prancing
slamming into my skull
— words better
off on paper
but left for dead
by my battered psyche —
endless poetry
forgotten songs
hovering in shadow
waiting for the
light of day
— or will they
seek a
different author?

msa, 5-21-97

disclaimer: poetry and fiction snippet content are my own original content. unauthorized reproduction of any post content, without prior written permission, is in direct violation of applicable copyright laws.

a poem

Heart on My Sleeve
04/26/07

I’m in love with the
you as familiar
as my own shadow.

I hold you in my heart
but you don’t see me.
I gaze deep into your soul
but you don’t feel me.
I see you in front of me
though I shut my eyes.
I feel you against me
though you aren’t here.

I hear your voice.
Your energy envelops me.

I feel your
fingers in my hair.
I feel your
weight on my body.
I feel your
breath on my skin.
I taste your
tongue in my mouth.

Our dance,
intricate choreography.
Your blood runs like poison
through my veins.

I smell you on my skin
and in my hair.

I’m not content
to watch you leave me.
I’m not content
to say goodbye.
I’m not content
to let you go.

Welcome to
my private hell.

disclaimer: poetry and fiction snippet content are my own original content. unauthorized reproduction of any post content, without prior written permission, is in direct violation of applicable copyright laws.

a poem for a sunday

Night Has a Voice
by: Mari Adkins
Spring 2006

I stood there
the wooden boards
beneath my feet
the night
around my body

It’s been much too long
since I’ve been
out in the night
tasted its mysteries
felt its embrace

The night has a voice
It speaks in a whisper
The night has a body
Its hands and fingers
are the wind

For the forest is long
and the night is deep
The rest is silence

disclaimer: poetry and fiction snippet content are my own original content. unauthorized reproduction of any post content, without prior written permission, is in direct violation of applicable copyright laws.

poetic interlude

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call’d him soft names in many a musèd rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!

[from Ode to a Nightingale, by Keats]

my soul lies bleeding

My Soul Lies Bleeding
by: Mari Adkins
May 17, 2007

Death sits on my lap
an uninivited guest
laughing at my discomfort
Unable to see his face
for the robes he wears
I know his smile
His arms rest around me
their weight on my shoulders

My soul lies bleeding
on the floor
Death whispers and laughs
into my ears

I lay my head down
at midnight
Without you
I am nothing
All my sunsets
taste of blood and tears