One October Mourning

It was a morning in October,
When the wind was rushing over
Pines and fields of four-leafed-clover.
Clouds were hanging over Dover.
 
A stranger wandered into town,
Dressed up in black, with hair of brown.
His grave-eyes wild.  He wore a frown.
A stick of wood, he whittled down,
 
Into a marionette with laces.
He carved three entrancing faces.
One whose tears could fill six vases.
The second’s smile, its face embraces.
 
The third had blanketed eyes, to snare
Mortals who really didn’t care,
And those who sadly couldn’t bear
Life’s sinuous dancing, pounding ware.
 
To each creature he met along the road,
And through the town, where e’er he strode,
He’d listen as their emotions flowed,
Reading out their life’s true code.
 
If deep down, Earth’s true treasures lie,
And with the wind, they longed to fly,
A puppet’s smile would meet their eye.
“Your life’s worth more than gold,” he’d cry.
 
If cliffs and canyons gorged on them,
But yet, they clung to a thorny stem,
And felt their life still held a gem,
With the sad face, he would not condemn.
 
But if he found within their heart,
That with this life, they longed to part,
The doll’s blank face–his abstract art–
Would, with its desert eyes, impart
 
The truth about the world beyond.
The puppet waved its magic wand
To help escape life’s clutching bond,
And, with the man, their souls abscond.
 
Behind him, the lost souls trailed away.
They vanished that October day.
Left us behind, to romp and pray.
He will return when life looks grey.
 
 
© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien

On the Verge of Years

It has been too long, I fear,
Since this stony cheek has felt a tear,
Too long since I made the choice,
To wrong her and lose her voice…

Somewhere in the shadow of these fears,
Something bitter coaxes sweet tears,
Reviewed, the aftermath of so many choices,
Imbued by all of their loving voices…

My heart is a rock and a hard place,
My love is between it, hiding her face,
Lest I say again what should have been,
Ignoring once more the quandary within…

Of all the times, of all the places,
Through all the pages, and all the faces,
Worn like the statue I shall ever be,
Can’t keep the cracks from letting the rain in…

Urging on tears, encroached by jeers,
Conscience sears, no cries it hears,
Of my sins dears, acceptance nears,
On the verge of years…

Brutal

Seasons change, mountains turn to sand,
Rivers run dry, sea withers to land,
But my brutality shall last forever,
Never shall I loosen this hand,
Ever will it bear the brand…

First to shed blood,
To cry remorseful tears,
Left my brother in the mud,
Forgot his name after many years.

All for a sacrifice born of vanity,
Rejection drove me to insanity,
My only recourse was to sever,
Turned sacred ritual into profanity,
Sold for a song my humanity…

Tears become a flood,
As conscience sears,
At that sickening thud,
Confirming darkest fears.

Falling Together

Failing to get her,
In life,
Falling together,
In love…

Frail thing for sure,
Such strife,
Faltering, no tether,
A shove…

Then together the pieces fall,
Into disarray, so out of place,
Far from the safety of walls,
Filling up the empty spaces…

Fragments of forsaken memories,
Lament delicious disorders,
Pain is only temporary,
Elusively woven discord..

Fall and sever,
In spite,
Stall forever,
This fate,

Feeling clever,
Then trite,
Feeble endeavor,
Too late…

And endure, becoming one with all,
Today, the pieces of this face,
Upon it the tear-faded scrawls,
Of ever fleeting disgrace…

Thinly veiled apologies,
Test sanity’s waning borders,
Muddling the commentary,
Left with this final word…