Archives: Poetry Submissions

By Anonymous

Exhausted beyond description.
Body, mind, soul, spirit, will.
My arm molecules feel oddly cleaved.
I try to sleep
Floating
Drifting
Thinking
Half-dreaming
Restless.
With the cat by my feet.
There is no room to stretch out.
Too hot, I expose a shoulder.
Too cold.
I feel feverish
I take my temperature.
Below normal. The flashlight is too bright.
Drowsy but more awake now,
Disappointingly and acutely aware
That I still feel like hell.
And that I have to pee
Too tired.
Finally my bladder wins
I drag myself to the bathroom
Heart racing.
Grab a cookie on the way back.
Back to bed.
It is still night, although it’s brightening outside.
I dread going back to bed
But really have no choice.
Another day of this. How many more?
I am desperate for it to end
But I am I desperate enough to end it?
After some serious thought I conclude I’m not.
And I try to go back to sleep.
Sometime later,
It will be
Better. I have to believe.
I just have to hang on.
But I’m too weak
Too tired
There isn’t enough of me left.

I can’t do this.
Yes, you can. You are. And you will.
My father’s voice comes from the beyond, tearful for me, but I sense pride and so much love.
The cat jumps up, wanting to cuddle.
Maybe Dad sent him.
OK, I will try to sleep some more.
Maybe
When I wake up
It will be better.

By Jenny Simpson

They told me the world was my oyster

Future like the sky, dreams supersized

I thought I could outrun the pain in my bones

Body of moans, still I kept going.

Till I crashed, shattered, a window of pain

Trying to stand up, collapsed again and again.

Denial wasn’t just a river in my head

As I sank to the bottom of the

I don’t want to sea-bed.

My world became an oyster in an oyster shell

Shut up and shut off, cut off from all is well.

Its salty sting soaking my skin

Open just enough to let a drop of see in.

With it the grit of irritation

Rubbing me raw in consternation.

Could I believe in a front-to-back down-upside whacked

Way to the way it all happens?

Days and babies and years and hope all come to being in darkness.

Nothing was precious until everything was.  Pause.

Achingly slow I learned to go with the flow

Dreamed someday and somehow I would some way let go

Of wishing and waiting for life unbroken

Hands soft, fingers brave cautiously open

This oyster is my world, right here is my pearl.