MOODS. CAROL NAYLOR.

                                                               VOID.

Devoid of life, purgatorial hell, my vision cloaked,
With shells exploding, I stumbled on, blindfolded by shrapnel
Onwards through the murky gates of hell, disquiet and unrest
Inevitably greeting me through invisible wisps of smoke.
Air expelled from my charred lungs as I choked back the vomit
As my life dangled on a thread between purgatory and hell.

 
COPYRIGHT 2012. Permission must be obtained from the author to use this poem.
 
THE LOST YEARS.
 
dedicated to W.D.Hunt who stole my child from me

The ruffled blonde hair,
Penetrating brown eyes,
The strained smile as the camera
Captures your innocence.

Unspoken thoughts,
Painful memories exist.
The chasm that existed between us
Worlds apart, worlds away...

I see a stranger, a school child
Looking for answers,
Searching for the truth,
Lost and alone, abandoned.

I feel your pain, your torment,
I understand your silence.
A bonding of love, stretched
And separated, broken.

That chasm still exists between us,
Still worlds apart, burdened with guilt,
Suffering life's unspoken thoughts
Of pain and loss and misery.


COPYRIGHT 2012.
PERMISSION MUST BE OBTAINED FROM THE AUTHOR TO USE THIS POEM.


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