This poem was inspired by the popular writer's idiom, "Murder your darlings" which refers to editing out words, lines, or entire scenes from your poem or manuscript.
i am her darling,
the poem that's dieda thousand deaths
sliced in a whimas i gasp my last breathmy poet is a murderess,
a ruthless seductress,
killing me, her darlingword by word
piercing melodic prose,
never to be heardshe employs modern warfare:
the dreaded reverse key
and on her worst nights,
she commands: delete all!
it's a massacre!the blood of my wordswiped away
as she lives to writeand murderanother day!
Edited from original post under my pen name Elizabeth Anne Ives.
you need not suffer in this season of despairthe answer to your suffering is to become awarethe answer is not seen, nor is it heardit is not known through pictures or wordsit is a potent force not easily understoodit does not boast thus its power is obscuredsurrendering to silence is the answer you seekquiet the mind and suspend your critique take shelter in silence to endure the storm
silence of the mind has the power to transform
where were you the night
the moon fell from the sky?
were you sleeping or dreaming
as the moon flew by?i watched in dismay as
it tumbled like a leaf
landing in the meadow
where the wildflowers sleep
i haled the little dipper
and much to my surprise
the dipper lifted the moon
back into the night sky!the grateful moon,
forever in the dipper's debt,
kissed the dipper's stars
as the wildflowers slept
Originally posted under my pen name Elizabeth Anne Ives.
