Sunday, March 22, 2009

SUNDAY IS FOR POETRY: In The Waiting


In the waiting
hope eludes me

Grasping, clinging to memories
made of sand sifted by fate

The hour glass suffocates
all prospects

Dressed in ethereal
death dominates

Absence chokes
any future

In the waiting
I submerge into oblivion.


**written by petra michelle**

18 comments:

Lavinia said...

A profound sense of yearning here.....waiting can be truly tortuous.

petra michelle; Whose role is it anyway? said...

Lavinia: It can be interminable!

Mama Zen said...

"The hour glass suffocates
all prospects"

That's a gorgeous line!

webberpa said...

Are you alright? I wish I could write.... but to bare ones soul, ones feelings puts it out there for all to see. Who is looking?

petra michelle; Whose role is it anyway? said...

Mama Zen: Thank you! :))

Webber: One of my darker pieces.
Baring one's soul is truly cathartic yet humbling.

Anonymous said...

That painting sure looks like what you're saying. Do you paint it?
No... I see a name on it. Okay.
That's some poem.

Tammy said...

WOW! You are very talented girl!

Chandini Santosh said...

And ah! If I were oblivion!

petra michelle; Whose role is it anyway? said...

Anonymous: I found this painting online which I thought truly reflected the tone of the poem.
No, I didn't paint it. Carmen Cilliers did. Thank you. :))

Tammy: Aw shucks, you tell that to all your friends! ;) Thank you, Lady! :))

Chandini: I knew you'd understand!
:))

PV said...

waiting...yes...then one tires of waiting, takes a laugh at fate, and runs off on ones own....albeit sometimes only to run into fate again....but oh the fun of it.

Great poem! I really liked it.

petra michelle; Whose role is it anyway? said...

PV: I really enjoyed your twist on it! You've helped lift the doom and gloom of it! :))

webberpa said...

Thank goodness, I was worried something incredibly life threatening was hanging over your head, like an aids test or something. I mean, I know it means a lot to you, but I thought maybe, like wow...you know...bad... as you can see, I am NOT a writer. But getting better at it. Hope you get what you want, and thanks for the music tips.

petra michelle; Whose role is it anyway? said...

Webber: Omg, no! But thank you for your concern, though needless. I'm in great health and spirits, although this poem was unusually dark for me.

Am looking forward to hearing your playlist!

Tipper said...

Anyone who has ever set in the waiting room of a hospital could so relate to this one-I can-and it fits perfectly!

petra michelle; Whose role is it anyway? said...

Tipper: Absolutely! Have been there with both parents countless times! Thank you, dear lady! :))

Blog Stalker said...

I always appreciate your writing style. Seems gloomy at first but I sense more...... A great poem!

i beati said...

oh no I am there have been there, hope this week is called emergence hah - you sound like love has passed by through your own misunderstandings or like me I expected it to be perfect and it never is ....Sigh

petra michelle; Whose role is it anyway? said...

Blog Stalker: Thank you! :))

Sandy: Amazing how many different interpretations. Why I love poetry so much! It seems to cover the gamut! Emergence is a great theme for the next, (((Sandy)))!