Shattered not Broken

 

He stands at the cross-roads of what’s

left of his shattered life; he ponders and

wonders as doubts set in. So much to

carry out yet so little time to fulfill

as he looks at his near empty glass.

 

His squander of time brought on by

his less want to do, his goals

aimless and meaningless, he faces

challenges of being alone, without

love, without a companion, without

a soul mate so lost for searching the

back roads of his past successful

achievements, without any

meaning they hold for him now.

 

He wept for his children as their

presence became no more, just

shadows of what they were to him,

like splinters of grass torn up from

their roots and cast to the wind,

never more to settle near him

and grow roots with him, forever

lost they were to his mortal soul.

Like a leper who covers his ugliness

with his robe, they run from him.

He sinks deeper into his pain.

 

His memory is fading not by his

own choice but by burnt circuits

of brain cells brought on by his own

abuse and pain he constantly feels,

he drinks away sorrows and wishes

for the night to end and give him

rest and peace, but it never ends,

this constant shattering of glass

in his head, the day he lost it all

and love left his heart and soul,

never to come out and play again.

 

His youth now left to haunt him

and return and slap him to the curb

and say I told you so, abused you

were then and abused you will be

again a slave to being unloved, he

cries and whimpers and wishes to

be reborn anew, a bite or kiss from

the spirit world, drawing him to

their own, allowing him to flee

from his world of madness,

emptiness and his own

beckoning hell.

 

He closes his eyes and regains

his strength to go on, stirred

from the shadows by his past

mentor and muse he takes one

more breathe and carries on.

 

Shattered but not broken he picks up his Quill.

 

© Copyright Vincent Moore 2012. All Rights Reserved

 


Comments

Shattered not Broken — 6 Comments

  1. Beautiful poem, Vincent! After reading several of your poems and writings, I feel as if I know you although we’ve never met. Keep writing beautiful poems, Vincent! You are a blessing to the poetry world. Your legacy — your life for all to read. Hugs to you!

    • Thank you Sandra for your kind words and loyalty to my writings. I appreciated your visits, yes I will keep writing for as long as my Quill fits between my fingers in my right hand. Peace and blessings I send to you dear friend, hugs.

  2. Wonderfully penned, dear Vincent! I remember reading this poem before, but it’s as captivating and beautiful as the first time. You are so very gifted, my friend.

    Love and hugs,

    Sannel

    • Thank you Sannel for enjoying my work. I happen to have a Muse that passes me his gifts, especially when he steps out of the shadows. Love and Hugs back to you sweet lady.

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