1… 2… 3… they all left me, alone, isolated I am now

I now desperately latch on to a thread of friendship that is barely there

So, now I look back on the broken ropes of connection while I hang on my last thread

1… over there, never really there at first this one

All it really was, was a show to make us both feel proud

But together we eventually met realization, the devil that pounded truth in our heads enough to let the string fray quickly enough

2… a good friend, a best friend; at least to me we were

A thick, sturdy cable emanating strength it was, that could hold me

But instead I hung loose

All words tentative and risky I had to speak

In fear of the wrong one and fear of it all, pools of apprehension ruining my shoes

I let go of this one

3… all the new and fresh ones I seem to meet

Now sometimes I ask myself

With a trade of two hardy ropes, do I truly get even hardier ones in return for gods of torture?

No, the answer seemed

Now I seemed to be cursed with too many of the most fragile threads

Constantly breaking and constantly forming

Why did I choose to lay here with everlasting anxiety

Where every string seems to leave just as soon as I could relax

These pieces of thread being beacons of hope for me

I want an escape from it all but I know I will feel too exposed

All I ask for now is sanctuary

So, my last post (Summer Light Becomes) claims to be a Nove Otto poem, but it wasn’t exactly completed when it got published so the syllable count at the end wasn’t correct and I didn’t even have nine lines. I think I accidentally submitted it a while back since I haven’t been on this blog for a hot minute and then it got published without me checking it. Also I don’t really know how to delete posts or edit them, if either of those are even possible so I’m just going to post this paragraph along with this sappy poem.


Summer Light Becomes (Nove Otto Poem)

photo of the sunDelightful day on summer’s dawn
Calms me so much it brings a yawn
To behold the sight is magic
The sun creeping out of the night
The joy of the light brings no fright
Though the end of peace is tragic
But bird calls are hymns of nature
Elegance of noise manifested by this creature

This is a new style of poetry I tried out, it’s nine lined with eight syllables each line with a rhyme scheme of aacbbcddc. You can read up on it on this site.

An Elegy

image of red rose with quill

Tonight I will stand for you even though you have fallen

Your life may have ended but the light you brought with you is immortal

For you I will never let my heart sink in despair

So, I will never waste the positivity you have planted in our hearts

But to mourn you for one second I shall stand in the darkness with you until you dropped deeply enough your burdens will have left you

In this your mark is branded on our hearts

Even though you lie elsewhere

This is my attempt at a very abbreviated elegy. An elegy is basically a reflective poem typically for when someone has died. You could compare it to a eulogy except an elegy is more reflective and obviously in a poem format.

If you want to read some elegies, I have a website for you:



I drift away

Never to be seen by the light of day

Some may say it makes me dark

While I slowly back away form the brightness that once surrounded me

I lose my spirit when I bask in that black emptiness

It hurts me with such pain

So, I stumble in a frenzy of panic

The Thing steals me, haunts me, and takes me as their own

The desolation is a vacuum waiting to consume everyone and everything

My long gone spirit filled with a one-of-a-kind confidence has been taken

The hollow effect it has causes me to bail in an outburst of tears for hope of a better day

Sorrowfully I drift away from the mainstream society

Oh, how I constantly ask myself, Why am I such an Outcast?





Dark Rose

DarkRose.jpgWhy does the weeping flower stay,

It’s filled with nothing, it should decay

But there it stands with only pride

Oh, how I can not look at how it cried

It fills me with such sorrow

I even fear its life for tomorrow

Throughout the torture its suffered

It will not even stay covered

How I long to acquire the soul of that rose

Not to fear, this wish will not be lowest of lows

All I need is the power it wields

The type I do not breed whereas

A mere plant can have that power to withstand like no other

So, I wish to my father, cousins, brother, and mother

That no matter how hard I must try I will not wither away

Not even a moment to think about a chance of decay