monsters and love

in poetry •  7 years ago 

there are monsters enough
inside and out

terrible beings
who twist lives tight
and wring hope dry

nightmare moments
that turn into years

horrible memories
that gouge out existence
and burrow in deep

human torment
and sentient pain
that washes over us all
and steals precious time

but we are each
much more
than alone

and with luck
courage
forgiveness
and love

we can stride through
the dungeon
again and again

find each creature
and look in its eye

throw open doors

push up windows

and melt the monsters
like mist in the sun
.
.
.

Thomaston Maine
June 23 2:36 a.m.
.
.
© 2016, 2017 William C.Eberle

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  ·  7 years ago (edited)

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  ·  7 years ago (edited)

Thank you, Guidry. I write poetry to remember. The part of me that writes poetry is hidden deep somewhere inside near the parts of me that dream, dance, and listen to sounds uncorrupted by meaning or music and song with sublime meaning. My mentor is truth, my truth and the truth of others. When a bit of truth strikes me with a word or phrase or idea, I go to work to try not to lose it and to follow . . .

Thank for your sincere request. I'll offer what I can.

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