This is a poetry series I wrote awhile ago. Each chapter is a different poem. |
1. A single solitary puppet trudges Across the deserted pages Of the book The illustrations are barren For it is winter In the book The girl marches slowly Across the dusty pages Of the book A few bold words stand out The rest meekly blend in She calls out to pure nothingness “Winter is barren here, can I find but one bright illustration?” She continues on With nothing to mark her journey Except the eerie silence But she is lucky For many ideas Either ran away Or were discarded Before they were ever put to paper These ideas And many others Now lay down as snow A new day dawns It is brighter But still The pages are covered in dust The sky is clear and colorful Maybe a reader will come! This hope goes down to the pages’ roots of rust The day wears on Growing darker And once again The night is empty Save a single solitary puppet Trudging across the pages Of the book 2. She knew the words Walked the pages Knew the story Remembered the stages In her youth and in her ages When a reader was found Hope was profound Yet she knew There was no home left The book was thrown away But she survived And will tell the story Until the pages grow old And she dies 3. She was created with words Words that ran wild She was the story’s very own child Surviving strong Living long Clearing the dust Wiping away the rust Finishing the story And living the worry Remembering the times she knew Especially when the book was born anew Then she died And there was no one left to cry 4. The clouds were grey The day was dim The sun was covered in dust The grass was dead Hope was gone The wind stopped in its tracks The girl was sad The pages’ rust deepened every day The characters were gone All that remained was a song A song of peace, despair And love’s own gong But she had not the heart to sing it She had not the heart. 5. The clouds, they puzzled her Would they remember too? The sun, it brightened her Filling her with hope anew The wind, it brought her news That blew her heart beyond her reach 6. The book was gone Hope was dust Smoke was in the air The dream died The cry cried The words had vanished there The girl was weak The floor creaked Her dreams were beyond here She was alone In the woods Through the foggy woods Her new home Was a dark shape in the distance A beacon in the dawn 7. She was there In the woods Where the sparrows sang She was there In the heart of it Where the bluebells called Across the meadow Through the woods Strength came Dragging herself Dragging Dragging She walked on The only thing to mark her journey Was the rustling breeze She came to a cabin Old with age Worn with wear Torn with tear Yet she found strength in the dust Strength in the rust Epilogue Her hair was black Black despair Hope gone elsewhere Her feet were heavy Leaden stones Trying hard to walk home Her dress was torn Tattered words Too lost to be on their own |