PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

 The ink of our stories continues flowing even as we approach life’s most difficult crossroads. Photo by CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash

 

Ink Unspooled at the Threshold

“Non omnis moriar.”

– Horace

 

Opening: Fractured Self

 

Who’s left, when the mirror spits back static-

A stutter of faces, a flicker, a fizz-

I am the echo in the stairwell,

A moth in the socket,

Spinning, spinning,

My mind a carousel of keys,

Jangling, clanging,

No lock to fit.

 

 

 

World’s Indifference

 

Listen-

The world grinds on,

A cold machine,

Its gears gnash,

Its eyes glass-green.

I’ve shouted into inboxes,

Tapping, tapping,

My pleas ricochet,

A hail on tin,

No answer in the static,

Only the hush of “no,”

And the hush is a hammer.

 

 

 

Farewell to Students

 

To you, my bright ones-

You, with your notebooks and nervous laughter,

You, who grew in the dark,

I leave the marrow of my meaning:

Let knowledge outpace the wolves.

Let your questions crack the shell

Of every easy answer.

Remember:

The world is not just,

But you can be.

Let your hope be a howl,

Let your laughter be a shield.

 

 

 

Farewell to Animals

Soft noses, feathered hush,

Paws in the hallway,

Heartbeat hush-

I’ve left the list, the food, the names,

The number for the vet,

A blanket folded,

A window cracked for sun.

Forgive me,

Forgive me-

Oh please - forgive me-

I have run out of doors.

 

 

 

Desperation and Decision

 

I have begged, I have borrowed,

I have bartered my sleep,

I have mapped every alley,

I have counted the sheep-

But the night keeps on gnashing,

And the dawn never breaks.

I am spent, I am scattered,

I am the last note the violin makes

Before the string snaps.

 

 

 

The Choice

 

So-

Snap.

The clock ticks,

The ink drips,

A hush falls,

A hush,

A hush.

 

Hope for Survivors

 

But I dream-

You, curled in a shaft of light,

You, laughing, learning,

You, safe in the hush of a home.

Let my leaving be a door,

Not a wall.

Let my words be a bridge,

Not a stone.

In the hush,

May you hear my hope.

 

 

 

Legacy

 

Ink unspooled,

Voice unspun.

I am the whisper in the rafters,

The pawprint in the dust,

The lesson half-remembered,

The love that lingers,

Even when the door shuts.

 

 

 

Closing: Release

 

So let these lines be lanterns-

Flicker, flutter,

Guide you through the gutter-murk,

Let them stutter,

Let them sing-

I am gone,

But in the hush,

A bell rings.

 

 

In the empty spaces between footfalls, we find the echoes of our departing selves.

Placeholder image made in Midjourney v5.2

 

 

 

 

Absolution in Ink -rewrite

 

 

I haunt these halls-

a shadow stitched to linoleum,

a footfall in the hush

before the bell.

Each step is a gauntlet,

each breath a blade

against the throat of morning.

 

 

 

I write in the dark,

a final flare,

a phosphor script

on the bones of night.

To you-

students, seekers,

I leave a map:

let knowledge

be your lantern,

let truth be your teeth.

 

 

 

To you-

creatures curled

in the crook of my arm,

I leave the rhythm

of my hands,

the scent of my sleeve,

the promise of a bowl,

a window cracked for sun.

 

 

 

I have walked

the splintered roads,

worn my shoes

to the quick.

The streets wait-

mouths open,

hungry for the softest thing.

I cannot feed you

to that hunger.

 

 

 

So I script my exit,

one last rebellion

against the cold machinery

of indifference.

If death is mercy,

let it be a rest.

 

 

 

Yet even as I fade,

I see you-

in rooms of laughter,

in arms that do not tremble.

Let this vision

be the balm

that steadies my hand.

 

 

 

Let these words

be my last decree:

in every line,

a piece of me breaks free,

to hover, to guide,

to light your way

when all else fails.

 

 

 

"I pen farewells with hands that tremble, ache, / Each word a weight, each phrase a shackled sigh." Image by Midjourney v7

 

I am! Yet who discerns the self I bear?

My essence flickers, dimming like a star.

I am the vessel where my anguish dwells,

A mind in constant spin, both near and far.

 

 

 

This unjust world, its balance torn and lost—

Yet still I am—I live—though tempest-tossed.

Into the storm of cold, dismissive eyes,

Into the swirling sea of disbelief,

Where years of earnest, documented cries

Find no safe harbour, no shore, no relief.

 

 

 

All that I cherished fades into the mist,

My faithful friends, my comfort near-dismissed.

I pen farewells with hands that tremble, ache,

Each word a weight, each phrase a shackled sigh.

For those I've guided, nurtured, strived to wake,

Instructions flow like tears that never dry.

 

 

 

The care, the love, the dreams we've woven here—

Unravelled by the threads of fate, severe.

And for the gentle beasts who've shared my heart,

Whose fur and feathers soothed my weary soul,

I trace provisions for when I depart,

Each line an arrow through my being's whole.

 

 

 

The thought of parting rends with searing pain,

Yet homelessness would be a crueller bane.

I've fought, I've pleaded, scraped for any aid,

Exhausted every path, each avenue.

But now the hour comes, the choice is made,

To end this dance, to bid this life adieu.
The shame, the guilt, they claw with vicious talons,

Yet suffering's spectre looms in stark equivalence.

 

 

 

There's solace in imagining their joy,

In homes where love will be their steadfast guide.

Though I'll be gone, my spirit will deploy,

To guard and bless them, ever by their side.

And in that thought, a fragile peace unfurls,

To ease the ache within my shattered world.

 

 

 

So ink becomes my voice, my legacy,

The tether that connects me to their light.

Each caring phrase, a token of what's lost,

Each fond remembrance, armour for their fight.

I'll slip away, a whisper on the breeze,

But in these letters, part of me still breathes.