Springtime Decay

The pastel petals gliding from your thick branches

filled with blushing flowers and rare greens

remind me of the ashes of a dying bonfire

drifting aimlessly in the wind to oblivion.

 

The beauty in the struggle of your branches is almost enough to make me forget my own.

 

Forget the termites that drilled a hole on my left-centre

slipping through the bars of my ribcage

but making sure to leave nests

that drain me of phloem for their nutrition…

 

Until I’m nothing but a cadaver

Until I am abandoned for something living.

Advertisements

The Everest

Everest-575683

After days of climbing, with the sharp breeze caressing my face like the hands of a dying lover, I reach the top. At the highest point of humanity, I’ve never felt so low, insignificant. Here a top of this ice sculpture I realise that if I froze right now I would be nothing but another rock, adding one more layer to something bigger.

Image: GOOGLE

Soon Enough

Soon enough

the thick brown branches

will be hidden by flowers

and everyone will exclaim how beautiful they are.

 

Soon enough

the few dry patches of grass

will become greener

and everyone will want to crush the shards.

 

Soon enough

these surroundings will produce their music

a soundtrack of laughter

and only now it will be an object of desire.

 

But a few months ago

when the only music was one of death and silence

and the days were grey and short

this place laid abandoned.

 

And no one noticed how beautiful it was.

Chess

Check.

You’ve planned everything.

Check.

Moving through the checkered bits

you took away everything I once was.

Check.

You’ve dismantled my walls,

Check.

blew out my defenses.

Check.

You were the Knight leaping through my broken pieces

landing on top of my very own essence

in a board-shattering

Checkmate.

©Maria Omena

Reach

Reach out.
Stretch your limbs,
your arms, your fingers,
your soul, your essence;
Reach deeper.

Reach into my body.
Grab it, own it, claim it;
Carefully though,
reverently,
don’t break me.

Reach into my soul,
as if it’s the most wonderful poem you’ve ever heard.
Read between the lines, hear the way my heart beats –
like an overexcited metronome as you hold me.

Reach into my thoughts.
Pull out the poison ivy that has a hold on my brain.
Make my head spin, my hands shake, my heart race…

Make me see colour in a world that was once so grey.

Masterpiece

I was floating in the middle of a green field

when I felt cold hands grabbing my waist.

A pocket square covered my mouth –

chloroform had never smelled so bittersweet.

 

I remember when I told you I liked red,

you said I looked exquisite in it.

Is that why you made me bleed?

So you could paint my body with your fingers,

touching,

ripping,

shredding.

Crafting and carving on my skin.

 

I recall when I told you I liked purple,

until I became it.

Your face branded on my eyelids every time I moved,

with your twisted fingers you tattooed me.

The arms around me resembled a cage –

I should have run when I had the chance.

 

I remember when you said my grey eyes were beautiful.

maybe you liked them so much that you wanted them still.

The gris turned to ice, losing its sparkle.

Orbs always open and never blinking

you would be the last thing I see.

 

I recall every time you said

you would help me become what I found most beautiful.

I was the only canvas you needed to express your artistry.

you loved me and would transform me into your masterpiece.

I wonder, if I had said I was colour blind, would you have let me be?

The View

What to do about the swirling vortex of droplets that turned the dazzling horizon into savagery with its roar. The aroma of pain, chaos – a mess of stingy and inharmonious scents that somehow drew me into the broken remains of Home. The palette of grey that painted the background in a bleak dégradé of colours was only lightened by an electric discharge – pity, not even a blatant manifestation of Thor’s power could save me now. The temping image haunts me and yet, saves me like a lucky shot in a Russian roulette. Curiously, seeing the ruins that used to be my mind palace made me realise that there must be beauty in destruction after all.