Amnesty

My hand is the air
As if to say
I’m always there
When you’re needing me

My words are all contained
As if a moth
That’s now restrained
Where you’re leading me

My pen is on a page
As if a wish
Within a cage
And I’m pleading, “See…

Me for more than what
I know you see
Below the cut
Below the utterly…

Dark, and broken thing
I have become
That never sang
How much you meant to me…”

My head is in my hands
As if to say
I never planned
For you to see in me

A heart to be redeemed
A word of praise
A hand that seemed
Ready to comfort me

The smile on my lips
It simply means
I’m not equipped
To see you leaving me

My hand is in the air
As if to say
I’m always there
Because I need to be…


Inspired by the song “My Gift of Silence” by Blackfield.

Lepers

For when the bells of iron chime
Then on to the cathedral
Do they move along the streets to fall in line

Stop they, all the tearful toil
Standing cold and idle
Not a shift or sidle – rigid as gargoyles

With given words of ashen lecture
Symbols of compassion
Worn as fashion under dour architecture

Tying tongues in little knots
And fingers slick with tears
With the promises of years, they haven’t got

Ullage

Hands that held a halo halted
Handing it to me with harrowed heart
Hardened by the hollowness exalted
By the heavens heralded to hark

With their woven whispers winding
Whither then to wander, else to wear
Where the whipping winds were weary, binding
Woes and withered wonders to your wares

Tracing tumult through the trials
Toughened by the turbulence and tears
Trailing tired touches of denials
Tainted by temerity and fears

Umbral tidings undulating
Until all the urges were a ledge
Utterly unknown and understating
You who understood your own ullage


I was tasked with writing a poem that used alliteration and given the word prompt: ullage
This is what I came up with.

Iteration

There might just be a day
You’ll ask how many ways
I plan to try to say
That I still miss you

You need not be a sleuth
To isolate the proof
I’ll gladly speak the truth
Without an issue

It’s once for every blink
And twice for every drink
And thrice each time I think
I should have kissed you

And hope do I that one
Day it can turn to none
And longing words become
The day I’m with you

Winding

Strange
How on the ground the snow is blinding
That
We seek so tainted by reminding

I,
Within, can feel the gears are grinding
So
Consumed by memories rewinding

Treasure
Found, and underneath the finding
You,
The road beneath, forever winding

July

With lamentations, e’er we lie
Upon this tide of aspiration
Disparate as earth and sky

For labored breath has earned your eye
With pulses high as tabors set
And cabers hefted just to vie

A melody escapes from why
With timbre lithe as elegies
Compelling me to trust and try

Where wonder flew too much for nigh
And thus was I held clutching you
A touch consumed as stars born in July

Juxtapose

Was gallantry the reason
That I trampled through the garden
And then waited for the season
So that I could pluck a rose?

Was chivalry the virtue
That compelled me of my treason
As I swore I’d never hurt you
Leaving every crux exposed

Is honor what compelled me
As I waded through the river
Breaking every chain that held me
Blind to what I crushed below

Can sorry really save me
When the angels that are crying
And the demons that are waiting
I can never juxtapose