Witness

Death scribes itself a poem
underneath my skin,
wraps it spirit of darkness
creeping from within.

Around my neck it swirls
feigning jealousy,
for breathing pious air
blind hypocrisy.

Death comes to take me over
warrantless approach
arresting my poor body
stealing from my soul.

In Retrospect

Death startled my emotions,
spun them in the air
flipped my body upside down
forcing out despair.

I begged and pleaded “SAVE ME,”
cried with all my might,
while chanting prayers of mercy
" grant my life tonight"

Awakened from the nightmare,
the memory stirs a breath
I sigh with strange relief;
“I escaped my death.”

DREAMS DECAY

I had a dream last night and it has creeped into my mind - stealing my happy thoughts.

A Short Synopsis Follows:

When I opened the front door, I knew something was terribly wrong. The stench of putrid decay crawled up my nostrils, and the television was spurting out names of the recent soldiers killed in Iraq. The kitchen was full of smelly garbage: cans strewn about the apartment, rotten dishes stacked randomly throughout. A pot with burnt broccoli was covered with mold, and I felt the acid in my throat as I rushed to the garbage can to heave my worries away.

I walked slowly down the hall following the horrible smell - the smell I feared... As I rounded the corner into his room, I could hear only the buzz of the fish tank. My heart raced as I searched the room with my eyes half-closed, afraid of what I was about to see. I fell to my knees when I saw him – head rolled sideways and eyes open, staring vacantly ahead, a stream of saliva oozing from his mouth. The glass he had been holding had dumped into his lap, and a dried puddle of Vodka had formed a path between his legs, which were slightly open.

THANK God this was only a dream.....

Devil’s Game

I wrote this a few years ago when I was in Afghanistan with the Army. It was my favorite piece while I was there and just thought it would be appropriate for what we are facing now. The war gets pretty tiresome....

Fear stretches itself beyond the limits of truth
While the sounds of war rage,
Breaking the battle ground softly
The fire burns deeply

Soldiers die
Women hide
Children cry

Each country’s flag flies its pain
Collecting dust
Collecting rain

Salute anger with pride
Destroy innocence with lies

Beauty remains hidden
Underneath hell’s surface
Honor lends truth to struggling soldiers
Who fight to remain loyal

God listens patiently
As we pray for strength
The Devil fights to win
One more soldier down,
Checkmate in Bagram

The Gift of Ignorance

This is a flash fiction piece I wrote a couple of months ago - I couldn't come up with a poem today :-(.....

Joni was on the hospital bed screaming, as the contractions ripped through her pelvis and abdomen. The pain was intolerable and moved inside her body every two minutes, like rolling waves. It was too late for the doctor to give her an epidural and just as she was ready to pass out from pain; her vagina felt a sharp stabbing ache, forcing itself open. Sweat started pouring down her face, and she could taste its salty beads on her lips. She gasped for air as the throbbing continued, and tried not to think of the only other time she felt this kind of agony.

Over the next ten minutes, the pain continued to escalate, and Joni couldn’t seem to get enough air. She gripped the side of her damp bed, digging her nails into the mattress. The doctor’s voice was mumbled, and all she could make out was the word “push.” She forced herself to press downward every time the wave came, and could feel the baby slide outward as she was torn open below. The last thing Joni heard was a high-pitched cry, and the room went dark.

When the nurse came in twenty minutes later to wake Joni with news that she had a beautiful baby boy, Joni knew there must have been a mistake. There was no way she had wasted nine and a half months to give birth to a child with a penis.

“That baby’s not mine,” Joni insisted, still groggy from labor.

The nurse looked down at the delicate blue bundle she was holding. “Well of course he’s yours, Ms. Kontroy, I helped with the delivery.”

“No! I’m sure you’ve made a mistake, I had a little girl - Cheyenne – with perfect little hands and tiny feet; I heard her cry,” Joni urged, and turned her head to give a vacant stare out the hospital window.

The nurse had seen this before; women who wanted a girl so desperately that they went insane upon discovering they had been mistaken their whole pregnancy. She wasn’t about to let this woman deny the child any longer and walked over confidently, bending towards her with the sleeping baby.

Joni inhaled the sweet earthy scent of her newborn, and slowly turned towards the nurse. Glycerin tears flowed down her cheeks as she looked down at the child outstretched before her. She didn’t anticipate what would happen next: her heart flip-flopped as her soul interpreted what her eyes beheld. He was the most precious infant she had ever seen. His cheeks were plump and rosy, and his dark lashes rested shut against his tawny colored skin. Although the nurse had not placed a daughter in her arms, she realized at that moment that this child was going to change her life forever.

Elizabeth

Wrap your soul inside this shadow
For it does not weep or falter

It is hollow within
A ghost
Of former years

A vacant remnant of history
Clings to the silhouette
That once held her body

Touch your hand upon her heart
And feel her withered spirit
Afraid to let go of her wrinkles

For they are all that remain
And perhaps
Her only saving grace

The Rapist

And boys can drown every
flower,
groping hands inside
juxtaposed kisses
little masters
need only
penis quivers
resting
silently
to
undulate
victory
with
x
y
z

The Results

For my best friend....


Slipping into silence
She waits until the sun sets
Staring at the stars,
Emotionless

She has taken
Her final exam
And the results
Show signs
Of serenity
Signs of stillness

She no longer
Waits
For the plus sign
She is
Slowly sliding into
Simplicity

She has
Beaten the odds
She has
Changed history
Spiritually saved

She is sure
Sarah
or Susan
Steven
or
Simon
Will
Someday
Save her


She won’t strike out
She will save the game
In the seventh inning

A New Beginning

I wrote this for a friend who recently learned that her grandpa had passed away. He was a wonderful man, and had just celebrated his 50th Wedding Anniversary. WOW. This poem was written in five minutes, and I swear I felt a presence writing it. I am very spiritual, and rarely have I had something like this happen, so I wanted to share.

In Remembrance

Climb into my world
See the love that pours from me now,
Away from the pain and the tired game
Called Life

Beauty wrapped itself around my heart
And took my body away
But I will not fade
I will not fade

I am waiting for you my dear
I am waiting
To show you the sky so clear
And the disappearance of fear

I am waiting for you my dear,
For you to hold my heart
With your beautiful grace,
Away from the sadness you face

Until then…..

Remember my love
And my warm embrace
Remember the young days,
And the dreams we chased,

Remember my hands
And my smiling face
Remember my heart
It shall hold your place

The Amateur Poet

Hello! I don't know if anyone will ever read this, or if it even matters. I have started this blog for me, and me alone. I feel compelled to write poetry; it heals me. I have been writing for years. I got my B.A. in English, and didn't do all that great in college. So this is a personal goal for myself - to become a great writer - to inspire somebody. If I can reach just one person through any of these poems, than I have succeeded. My name is Jackie - and I write what I feel.... Not all of the poems will have explanations, but all will have significance for me. Thanks for reading!