Aging Hands

Strings of light shine on faces that hang
In the shadows that darken the walls,
And an echo of voices vibrates
In the ominous dank of the halls.

Specks of dust fall on tables and chairs
Long grown cold from the stark solitude.
Apathy sits curled up in the dark;
Head slumps over in a solemn mood.

Aging hands flip through old memories,
Photographs from a time long ago,
Lives and loves from the days that are passed,
All the close friends that I used to know.

And of all, I alone now remain,
Clinging to what I had once before.
And my memories pool in a tear
That falls into the dust on the floor.


© JMariah, 2011

Woodland Cabin

Here’s a poem I wrote about feeling alone and feeling like no one noticed that a part of me was dying. Anyway, I don’t want to give too much of it away. Or maybe I already did. My nickname in high school used to be Jo.

Woodland Cabin

The sun beat down one afternoon upon the cabin roof,
The musty air inside lay thick and still.
A summer breeze blew fragrances of honeysuckle rose
That wafted lazily from off the hill.

The woodland creatures roamed that day around the trees and bush,
The air made light the branches of the trees.
But stillness pained this summer time that brought a chilling touch
And deafening silence, hallowed by the breeze.

A rocking chair stood on the porch, a pipe lay to one side
Upon a tree stump cursed with blackening rot.
Collapsing steps and peeling paint and beams in ill-repair
Had marked this woodland home that time forgot.

And there within the belly of this dark and lonely hut,
Amid the dust from summers gone before,
Engulfed in foul-smelling air, the shriveled mound of flesh
Of Hermit Joe lay rotting on the floor.

The sun beat down that afternoon upon his lonely grave,
O’er which no sorrowing eyes had bowed and cried.
It gently heated up the dust and age-old rotting flesh
That housed and fed the worms that bred inside.


(c) JMariah

Nothing Matters

hours go by,
days,
and then weeks.
and when months
blow past me
like bubble gum wrappers
and empty potato chip bags
along a dusty sidewalk,
nothing seems to matter.

and the cold, deep places
fall into colder,
deeper places,
then out of sight.

and you don’t reach
for me.
and when the memory
of the reaching
fades,
nothing matters
anymore.

Sick Of Being Alone

I gulp down another forkful of loneliness
and choke on the excuses smothering it,
the way globs of ketchup
would cover clumps of unpalatable mashed potatoes.
My stomach tightens,
heaves
and threatens to throw it all back.
I gag,
then swallow.

Lies squirt my eyes
with the pungent juices
of a ripe onion,
and send the tears over my teeth
to wash down the lumps.

I burp up a memory from the past
and re-taste its teases
on the edges of my tongue,
before slowly guiding another forkful
toward the back of my throat.
Bile rises. I gag,
then swallow.

Read more poems by JMariah

Dark Cloud

Today I am alone and feeling so deeply lonely. This loneliness is so overwhelming, biting into the hours of the day with much crying and a deep depression. I am doubting that there could possibly be anyone in this whole world who would truly love me. I look at myself in the mirror and I don’t like the image I see. And more than that, I can’t believe that anyone else would either. A dark cloud moved over me last night and I’ve not been able to shake it since. I am reaching for the happiness in a love that has always been beyond my grasp, and it scares me. It scares me to think that one day I may find that this illusive love wasn’t meant to be anything but just that – a dream I was never meant to attain.

Dark Cloud

A grey mood slips
silently over my night
and hovers
menacingly
moments above me.
And suddenly,
I’m aware that I’m alone.

A deep heaviness
rises within me
and shields my mind
from reason.
Staggered breaths
break the silence
and flood my swollen eyes
with the sting of self-doubt.

Hours drag on,
‘til morning finds me choking
on the memory
of past neglects and abuses
and drowning on the tears
they’ve made.

And who’s going to love me
out of this depression today?
Who’s going to help me
end this silence
that echoes my loneliness
back to me?

No one…