The survivors



floating towards the end 

endure another torrid day,

with my shadow half hidden

and slowly fading away.


Into the dust of grey light.

We try to strive and survive.

Giving our oasis last rite.

I am grateful to be alive.


But the desire for this life seems.

like all the moments ebbing away.

With no friends to share our dreams

We've been a mockery melting in decay.


Just like a summer silhouette evening

quietly settling into the candlelight.

Colors of the day lost in the night.

Anticipate hopes for a new beginning. 


Frozen host into the ghost suffuse. 

The perimeter of joy is nearly gone. 

Our lives are marred and bruise.

Left with more harm to carry on.


We Aged quicker into reveres, 

The shades of comfort hiding. 

Our battered and bruised nerves. 

The happiest place becomes frightening. 


Secure only by the fortunate danseuse,

Beautiful battlefront warriors.

In a placid garden of roses 

Lucky to be among the survivors. 


Preserved throughout this year.

A breeze brushing aside the fears.

Telling us to be more aware

face injury among scary predators. 


Sat on park benches pondering. 

In a languid mood where we walk.

Memories go daily wandering. 

Voices trying to make small talk.


But inside, the weeping heart

excitement has been diminished. 

Left with scars as a portrait of art.

Deeds of the past cherished.



  • Author: Gerry Legister (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 5th, 2020 12:02
  • Comment from author about the poem: Surviving the plague of present reality
  • Category: Surrealist
  • Views: 30
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