I pass through places dark and lost,
Prices higher than what I’d cost.
I walk through worlds without a word,
Watching the flight of an mockingbird.
I stride through cities consumed by the past,
Sorrowful nations that had seen their last.
I stagger through streets sometimes all alone,
Searching for a seat to call my throne.
I dance through domains drowned by death,
Desolate darkness where none draw breath.
I ramble through realms wrought in the rain,
Rebels and rogues who realize pain.
I flee federations forgotten and found,
Fading fantasies that fear has crowned.
I linger through lands longing for her lips,
Lonely and lamenting this my heart’s Eclipse.
As I lay asleep in bed,
a fiery dream flickers in my head.
Rotting corpses, rank and dead,
I cannot stop the feeling of dread.
As I fall down to the ground,
a fiery dream races around.
Pale faces, drained of blood,
gore soaked into the mud.
As I cry to my demise,
sobbing, choking on the lies;
my dreams come and go like thieves,
A cadaver going and going grieves.
Each and every word you spoke,
was fire in a wooden bowl.
A cloth you dyed; a chain you broke,
fingerprints upon my soul.
Every kiss in your warm embrace,
gently took its toll.
A knife in my heart, tears on my face,
fingerprints upon my soul.
Each day I live without you near,
is a day I weakly crawl.
Without you I have only fear,
those fingerprints upon my soul.
The click of a latch
a wave of sweet smelling sap arises
I gaze down at my reflection
on a polished chestnut surface
light makes rainbow waves
as I delicately pick it up
and hold it in my arms
so light and hollow with its wooden body
and a smooth, black fingerboard
as I cradle it in my shoulder
and draw the bow across the strings
a sad, mournful, melodic sound
vibrates into silence
stillness aching for more
fingers erupt and muscles move
as a tune is played for one ear
but for all to hear
and melancholy ringing fills the air
like a fresh breath into the lungs
though desolate of words
it does not lack meaning
an explanation of the sense
that it holds
energy in my arms
music for my heart
body, mind, and instrument
when I play the violin.
-Marie Walters 2017
In the distance
the slow murmur of tree frogs
and crickets so close
darkness settles down
so the glare of light from the candle
casts ghostly shadows on the ground
and the silence is overwhelming
broken only by a lonely wolf in the distance
howling at the moon
settled deeply in the stars
that reflect upon a moth’s papery grey wings
as it flutters into the forest
dark with secrets and house of the unknown
and outlined at the top
the black shape of a hawk perched
atop the highest tree
salutes to the night sky
and better yet
the coming day
–Marie Walters 2017
Review by: Sophy
Egghead: Or, You Can’t Survive on Ideas Alone is written by comedian Bo Burnham and is a collection of witty poems and thoughts with illustrations created by his friend Chance Bone. Though these poems and thoughts may almost cross the line of being offensive, they can make you laugh and think about the author’s wit and onstage personality. I recommend older teens to read this book, as some of the content is inappropriate for people any younger. Even though the content may be offensive, it’s still fun.
The feeling of loss
the feeling of loneliness
the feeling that something didn’t go right
Unfair and deeply sad
aching throughout the night
The feeling of hurt
the feeling of pain
Sorrow, hopelessness, fear
Like someone you love has just gone away
or something bad is drawing near
Is there nothing to ease the pain
is there nothing to prove the claim
to mend the tear
to fix the rip
to help myself
get a grip
a perfect life
that has been flipped
Is there anything
for a start
That can fix my aching heart?
– Marie Walters, 2016