Burnt Edges

Pen your past then burn the pages

dog ear days that slipped amok

simmer in the stew of yesteryear

my cup runneth over with despair

repair the damage done with dust

sweep it to the corners of thine eye

don't dwell on the edge of darkness

this is the tale, they  tell it all

the boogeymen comes out to play

without invitation or forewarning

forgive, forget, move on, it's a new day

my ears hear it loud and crisp as

the whip that smarts across my back

service instructions please on how-to

burn past grievances that continue to sear

my heady grey matter is conjointly  burnt

inching closer to that last chapter's end

set aflame history's bastardazations

baptize the new year in the name of father

past echoes into the wind and chants

incinerate the spell of trespasses

closed eyes and sleep a thousand years

it's all the cliff notes, unabridged version

i am the fire that burns, the flame lives in me

Reviews

[KAOlmsted]

I got distracted a bit in the second stanza, wracking my brain, trying to remember which Shakespeare sonnet I read back in school was about thine eyes (132, btw, which I should have known, because that was the number of the house we lived in when I read the b*****d thing, 132 Brookview Lane) but after I gave my poor old brain a much deserved rest, I finished the piece in a smooth flow of beauty and wisdom that were your words. I'm trying to say I liked it. ;-)

[Frieda P]

ha the stream of consciousness is just an extra bonus...'thine' came from someone telling me to 'thine ownself be true', then in the next breath, 'just forget about it'....sticks in my head! What i'm trying to say is thanks! ;-)

[KAOlmsted]

:-D My pleasure, always.

[Frieda P]

;-)

[SHEEMA HUQ]

i smile, i engage, I admire this connoction of guidance, assertions and observations

[Tarry Franck]

Brilliant!

[Sheila Kline]

When we have burnt edges, we scrape off the crumbs of of the piece of toast that is too dark too eat as the taste is acrid, and unpleasing; when we scorch our best blouse we scream with profanity and realize we could have set the iron (yes, I still use an iron on rare occasions) on a lower setting; when we have a soul with tattered and frayed edges as the strength of the inner core has weakened with the continual onslaught of insults, we take a walk towards the refrigerator/freezer, remove some ice, clink in a glass of pleasing bitters and drink a big glass of refreshment! That's what we need to do when the fire still burns - take a much needed dose of healing - like writing this poem, or letter which makes one feel better!
Another great write my friend!!

[Carolann Dowsett]

Wow yes this is heavy and emotive. How easy it is to say forgive and forget when the lashing of the whip are still burning into your flesh. Awesome!

[LJW]

The tricky part of cathartic writing is in the translation of very personal experiences
and feelings into a cohesive piece of writing.

This particular piece felt disjointed and overly thought out.

[Deron Alexis]

well done the English added a sort of dire beauty to it very lovely use of resources and the flow and concept were great as well well written per usual

[Frieda P]

Always lovely to see you Deron, thanks you muchly!

[Deron Alexis]

much obliged ma'am

[InsanityWriter]

Very well done. Once again, you've painted an amazing story. :) Great write!!

[Frieda P]

Danke Skittles, glad you liked it. :-)

[C.C. Marx]

There was a letter I once wrote, it was to a girl I was once best friends with. I wrote it to move on, printed it, and burned it. In a way, it gave me some relief. Great poem

[Frieda P]

I've done that with quite a few letters to a certain someone...thanks.

[C.C. Marx]

your welcome :)

[Ahmad Cox]

Nice. They say that fire can have very cleansing abilities to burn away what is old to bring in the new.

[Frieda P]

I've done that with several letters I've written, it can be quite cathartic....