Monthly Archives: November 2011

LIVING THE DREAM

Minutes turn to hours
Hours to days
Time ticks on
Dormant she lays

Staring with
Unseeing eyes

No conscious perception
Of what she is seeing
Focused solely
On the dull ache inside

As her heart beats on
Keeping her alive

Exhaustion finally claims her
Slowly steals her away
Into fitful sleep
Where the pain
Still awaits

Lost moments
Treasured memories
Play in her mind
As movies in dreams

Moments passed
Forever gone
But can never
Be stolen away

Light comes
Breaks the night
Signaling the rising sun

Forced to face
Another day
She wonders

If the strength
Will come

©2011 Jill Terry

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TREE OF PROSE

My words pour forth
To free myself
My mind
My heart
My soul

For you I am still
Silent and waiting

The tree of my prose stands bare
Dark and alone atop the hill
Unprotected from the bitter chill

For you came like a gale force wind
And the leaves were whirled away
Far off as forgotten things
When wrapped in loves tender embrace

Yes, the tree of my prose stands bare
Against a winter grey backdrop
I gave my stories to the rest
To you I gave my self

© 2011 Jill Terry


TIS THE SEASON

White gossamer wings
Reflecting the north-flowing waters
Rapidly flying south

Grey clouds lowly hover
Looking as if to blanket the trees
Reflecting the heaviness
She feels in her heart

The sadness
That floods
Her soul

While others plan their festivities
To mark a time of giving thanks
All she can do is wander lost
Under a sunless sky

Watch the waves
Lap cold and lazily
Upon this desolate beach

Longing for that
Which is out of her grasp
Lingering taste
Of what she cannot have

Misery loves company
But she finds this untrue
As she sits alone
Along the rocky shore
Realizing there is no light
Left to guide her

Thinking perhaps there never was
Is possible was only a fleeting dream
And tragic darkness is her reality

How long she can withstand
Remains to be seen
Though she feels her self
Winding slowly down

And she’s neither the will
Nor the strength
To pull herself
From the depthless well

For even if she found a rope
And the fight within to climb
She would find no one waiting
Or holding the other end

Not of flesh nor of blood
But in spirit perhaps
That blows from her sight
With the first gentle wind

And what good is a rope
Tied to a tree
If not to end
Ones misery

© 2011 Jill Terry


BITS AND PIECES

And when you realize
How broken it really is
Do you toss it away
Or try harder to fix it

Broken beyond repair

Healing

Learned behavior
From years of neglect

I don’t know when exactly I wrote this, what it was intended to be, but I found it scribbled on a scrap of paper in the bottom of my bag and thought it worth keeping…
That’s how it works; sometimes just bits and pieces.

© 2011 Jill Terry


DISEASE AND DISASTER

She couldn’t be certain
Though it really mattered not

Which came first
Each feeding the other

Was the disease
The cause of her disaster

Or did her disaster
Cause the disease

Regardless . . .

Disease and Disaster
Go hand in hand

Ruling with an iron fist
Encompassing her entire world

Snuffing the light
Illuminating the darkness

Torturing her mercilessly
And those she most loves

Exhausted from free falling
Longing to take flight

Far away and high above
Where no one can ever find her

© 2011 Jill Terry


Quote of the day

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
~Khalil Gibran


PRECIPICE

I did not reach
This dangerous precipice
Of my own accord
Nor am I capable
Of leaving that way

He who brought me here
Left me alone in darkness
Dangling precariously
On the fatal ledge

Will have to be the one
To take a step forward
Reach out to me
And take me home

©2011 Jill Terry


ENIGMA

She was a beautiful wreck
That he refused to let go of
Her insanity her sweetness
Her idiocy her brilliance

Inconclusive in the running
Head to head
Neck and neck

Never knowing
One moment to the next
Who she would be
When that trigger was flipped

Vile and venomous
Hateful and loathing
Sweet and caring
Gentle and loving

She’d become an
Enigma
To others
To her self

Her contradictory character
Leaving her exhausted

The wreckage of her fury
Weakening and breaking her

Mentally
Spiritually
Physically
Emotionally

Until all that remained
Was an empty shell
Not remotely familiar
Of her former self

She gasped desperately
Needing the breath of life
But the winds of change
Refused to blow her way

© 2011 Jill Terry


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