Depression

Shades drawn closed 
darkness blankets 
every corner of the room 
shadows become one 
flattened and obscure 
off in the distance 
are muted sounds
a whistling tea pot 
hopefully someone 
will attend to its needs 
wrapped gingerly within 
solitary seclusion and doubt 
...insecurity has become 
a knife held to my throat 
by my own hand 
widow's lasting garb 
fits like a second skin 
forming tightly around 
my waist and chest
heart beats out of necessity 
blood flows like an encore 
I hide within the day to day 
smiles and conversation 
secretly counting the seconds 
to when I might feel 
somewhat alive again 
it comes and goes 
velvet waves washing over
and a twisting churning knot 
tightens in my chest 
familiar hand reaching deep
fingers entwined
a death grip crippling
sleep comes a timely relief 
if only temporary 
ghosts and dream screams 
flutter quietly about
softly stroking my cheek
cold and damp to touch
until I rise and begin again 
praying for resolve and relief

© 2015 TrilbyYates 

Footsteps Of Angels - HWL

Asked and answered - if I had been from another era and had the talent to write the words with such divinity; I would have channeled my pain, closed my eyes and let the emotions flow from my heart to my finger tips forming such beauty...I would have written and spoken these words for you.
(12/14 TY)

Footsteps Of Angels

When the hours of Day are numbered,
And the voices of the Night
Wake the Better soul, that slumbered,
To a holy, calm delight;
Ere the evening lamps are lighted,
And, like phantoms grim and tall,
Shadows from the fitful firelight
Dance upon the parlor wall;
Then the forms of the departed
Enter at the open door;
The beloved, the true-hearted,
Come to visit me once more;
He, the young and strong, who cherished
Noble longings for the strife,
By the roadside fell and perished,
Weary with the march of life!
They, the holy ones and weakly,
Who the cross of suffering ore,
Folded their pale hands so meekly,
Spake with us on earth no more!
And with them the Being Beauteous,
Who unto my youth was given,
More than all things else to love me
And is now a saint in heaven.
With a slow and noisless footstep
Comes that messenger divine,
Takes the vacant chair beside me,
Lays his gentle hand in mine.
And he sits and gazes at me
With those deep and tender eyes,
Like the stars, so still and saint-like,
Looking downward from the skies.
Utter not, yet comprehended,
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer,
Soft rebukes, in blessings ended
Breathing from his lips of air.
O, though oft depressed and lonely,
All my fears are laid aside,
If I but remember only
Such as these have lived and died!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

White Roses

White roses

scent drifts
solemn breeze
carries me...

Delicate petals
gingerly
placed
mournful -

Reflect
black granite
mementos
perfection
in each bud...

Thoughtful
colors
of the season
fall
upon me -

Mums
pumpkin orange
shades of gold
sunlight yellow
...acknowledge
no one leaves
this place
unmoved
by the stillness
and grace -

Engraved
stone tells a story
I continue to weep
moments
hold memories
tenderly
bitter sweet -

Finger tips
reluctantly
trace
the end of life ~

© 2013 Trilby  

I Dream Of You

I dream of you...(softly)
I dream of you...(tearfully)
dream of you...(whisper)
I dream about you...(loudly)
I dream about you...(tearfully)
I scream for you...(scream)
I SCREAM...(anger)
SCREAM to the heavens...(pissed off)
CLENCHED FISTS to the heavens...(without fear)
I SCREAM FOR YOU...(hysterically)
I SCREAM FOR ANSWERS...(pleading)
I scream without reply...(reluctantly)
I cry for you, weep uncontrollably for you...(sorrowfully)
I ache, my heart aches...(painfully)
I curse the heavens...(sparks fly)
I curse the angels, god, day, night...(fuck)
I curse the existence of this life...(fuck)
I fall to my knees and beg for you...(pleading)
I beg without ego or pride...(alone)
I beg for you...(relentlessly)
I linger...(hopefully)
I linger with one foot in the past...(mournfully)
I linger with peace in my heart in the past...(joyfully)
I hang on the edges with one foot in the present...(letting go)
I hang on the edges...one foot in the present...(surrendering)

I dream of you...love(softly)
I dream of you...love(tearfully)
dream of you...love(whisper)

I ask...for you...I reach for you...i reach



© 2013 Trilby

The Day After St. Paddy's Day

Flawed Tapestry

Silence wraps around me
a blanket of blushed tones
silky white to touch
tints of gray
speckled from edge to edge
never knowing
if I am coming or going
questioning - have I been here all along
and there is a sense of harshness
in the thoughts that wash over me
my faith is an absence of color
as sepia images of Mary and the baby boy
fade away - drifting with a tide of innocence
that now alludes me to the core
I have grown weary
suspect of my surroundings
laughter comes at a price
and there is a dagger to my heart
as a finger to lips - hush sweet sounds of joy
silver in the lining of flat clouds
float by - carried on a sea breeze
traces of what I once knew to be true
this I know no more
and yes mourning doves coo
reminiscent of gentler times
penetrate the cloak that once protected
now smother daydreams of you and me
stray beams of sunlight
pierce a flawed tapestry
I’ve come to call my life

© 2012 Trilby