March Poetry & Creative Writing
Flapper Press is proud to present this month's collection of amazing poetic works.
The March poetry prompt was"Endings."
Thank you to all the remarkably talented readers and contributors who sent us their work!
Stay tuned for April poetry prompts!
So Short a Time
Love the lives in hand,
The sweetest animals:
Feline
Canine
Equine and others.
We won't have
Long
To treasure all
The time we do have.
They live such short lives;
We think we are wise.
Care for them,
Lives short or long,
For each brings love,
And love is strong.
We won't have so long
To treasure their lives.
Love the lives in hand,
The animals we care for,
Feline
Canine
Equine and others,
Who care for
Us.
They don't have long,
We live much longer.
If chance lies with us,
We love the lives in hand.
But time catches up.
The sweetest animals,
They don't have long.
Treasure the lives in hand,
We won't have so long.
They live such short lives.
— J.S.
Soundtrack to My Fears
The scene is over . . .
The ENDING credits unfold
False smiles overshadow the stories left untold
She sings her song
An innocent elegy
Its discordant melodies slowly chant my obituary
The bitter taste of my own ashes
Already dead to you . . . so dead to you
If I ask why . . .
Was mine a question with an answer beyond my understanding?
This unfamiliar touch
Torn between my morals and my will . . .
Is it still?
(Insatiable desires)
Beaten and bruised at the hands of my own muse
Shackled by the deafening silence that follows
Mirroring my darkest image
Dead to you . . . so dead to you
If I ask why . . .
Was mine a question with an answer beyond my understanding?
The wait . . . wasted
Replaced . . . by hatred
The silence echoing in dark cadence
The images I created encroaches on my last patience
Fallen victim of my own conjuration
Realized the poison that I once spewed has become my salvation
The sound . . . the silence . . . the questionings . . .
New beginnings
The fear . . .
This fear . . .
Is this what I want?
Or is it merely a craving for what doesn't belong to me?
All this time have I been praying to a god that ceased to exist?
Mirroring my darkest image
Already dead to you . . . so dead to you
If I ask why . . .
Was mine a question with an answer beyond my understanding?