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Array ( [sid] => 153921 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Her Staggering Odds [time] => 2009-10-08 22:26:49 [hometext] => .... as the November winds blow near, she weeps... as she loses him again [bodytext] => Her wings lay powderless and have
lost their gentle fluttering.
the fight in her slowly ebbs away
and dies.
Her destiny has become so hazy, she's
blinded from all the cluttering.
No sound escapes from her
as she cries.

Her sun has slipped behind the passing
of the grey.
The moon has left her without a place
to hide.
She could beg for all the good to wait
with her and stay.
But it's so much easier just to swallow her
pride.

No more room for her to show
any kind of error.
She's choking on the dust along
this chaotic journey.
She'd ask the universe for guidance
but it couldn't have less
of a care.
If she could only see past the lifeless
form of that bloodstained gurney.

Once her state becomes crass and bold
she's then held accountable while
struggling under water.
Then is she's meek and sorrowful
she's promptly edged off her pedastal to
be bruised and broken.
She's left upon the wheel
misshapen and unmolded
without a potter.
No one stays around long enough
for her to be anything more
to them than a forgotten
token.

Her belly, so full from all
the pain she's carrying from
the past.
Her head explodes from trying
to erase all thought...peace only
exists from a well-placed
sting.
She can never get her fill
her revelry to hold on long enough
for her to even last.
She's always scoring a hair shy
of the bulls-eye ring.

What good is her cage without
anyone there to hold the key.
What good does any passion do her
if there's no one there to release
the switch.
What good does any hope provide
for her if her demons are never
freed.
What good does a hundred percent do her
if she's always deemed too dangerous
to hitch.

She rambles in and out of her
unconciousness of fate.
She's growing numb outside
the cold fierce winds of
change.
She's knows she's always gonna
be way too much for any man
to ever take.
All the same, she's never been
enough on the long haul
to sustain.

She's falling without her safety net
while way to close to hitting
the ground.
Yet still high enough and icy to
even catch her breath.
She fears that all her running
away will never get her
found.
If there's no one there to harness
her ache than all she can glimpse
is her death.

If she keeps compromising her
personal power she'll have
nothing left to give.
If they break off every piece of her
eventually she'll just
crack.
If she can never find her place
of peace she'll lose her will
to live.
Breathtakingly slow and heavy
one by one
the bricks on her wall
get stacked.

Her odds of feeling completed
are staggering off the charts.
She falls back on believing
in loneliness and left
wanting.
The barbed wire surrounds and keeps
in place all the pieces of
her bloodied heart.
Her shot at happiness
by the touch of her hands
falls away rotting.

[comments] => 1 [counter] => 307 [topic] => 13 [informant] => jaeann [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )

Her Staggering Odds

Contributed by jaeann on Thursday, 8th October 2009 @ 10:26:49 PM in AEST
Topic: DarkPoetry

Her wings lay powderless and have
lost their gentle fluttering.
the fight in her slowly ebbs away
and dies.
Her destiny has become so hazy, she's
blinded from all the cluttering.
No sound escapes from her
as she cries.

Her sun has slipped behind the passing
of the grey.
The moon has left her without a place
to hide.
She could beg for all the good to wait
with her and stay.
But it's so much easier just to swallow her
pride.

No more room for her to show
any kind of error.
She's choking on the dust along
this chaotic journey.
She'd ask the universe for guidance
but it couldn't have less
of a care.
If she could only see past the lifeless
form of that bloodstained gurney.

Once her state becomes crass and bold
she's then held accountable while
struggling under water.
Then is she's meek and sorrowful
she's promptly edged off her pedastal to
be bruised and broken.
She's left upon the wheel
misshapen and unmolded
without a potter.
No one stays around long enough
for her to be anything more
to them than a forgotten
token.

Her belly, so full from all
the pain she's carrying from
the past.
Her head explodes from trying
to erase all thought...peace only
exists from a well-placed
sting.
She can never get her fill
her revelry to hold on long enough
for her to even last.
She's always scoring a hair shy
of the bulls-eye ring.

What good is her cage without
anyone there to hold the key.
What good does any passion do her
if there's no one there to release
the switch.
What good does any hope provide
for her if her demons are never
freed.
What good does a hundred percent do her
if she's always deemed too dangerous
to hitch.

She rambles in and out of her
unconciousness of fate.
She's growing numb outside
the cold fierce winds of
change.
She's knows she's always gonna
be way too much for any man
to ever take.
All the same, she's never been
enough on the long haul
to sustain.

She's falling without her safety net
while way to close to hitting
the ground.
Yet still high enough and icy to
even catch her breath.
She fears that all her running
away will never get her
found.
If there's no one there to harness
her ache than all she can glimpse
is her death.

If she keeps compromising her
personal power she'll have
nothing left to give.
If they break off every piece of her
eventually she'll just
crack.
If she can never find her place
of peace she'll lose her will
to live.
Breathtakingly slow and heavy
one by one
the bricks on her wall
get stacked.

Her odds of feeling completed
are staggering off the charts.
She falls back on believing
in loneliness and left
wanting.
The barbed wire surrounds and keeps
in place all the pieces of
her bloodied heart.
Her shot at happiness
by the touch of her hands
falls away rotting.

Copyright © jaeann ... [ 2009-10-08 22:26:49]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Her Staggering Odds (User Rating: 1 )
by Jefferson_Exit on Friday, 9th October 2009 @ 08:02:44 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

I`d like to say more, but I won`t, here it would sound cold and calculating
there are many conversations in this poem,
you would have to be warm and comfortable, and here I can`t see in your eyes
The raw honesty in the poem makes it remarkable, reading this its almost like I`ve invaded a privacy of yours. That to me the reader is remarkable.
.

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