I live every day
as if someone I deeply love
has just died
someone has died
but it wasn't today
nor was it yesterday
sometimes I wonder is it actually me?
is it me,
the person I used to be has died?
maybe after all the words I've ever written about death and grief
It's my own soul I'm trying to save?
-
Author:
Teddy.15 (
Offline) - Published: December 1st, 2024 02:00
- Comment from author about the poem: From my Raven collection. 🐦⬛
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Thomas W Case, Tristan Robert Lange, Qurrathul Ain
Offline)
Comments7
So often we need to look in a mirror to recognize that those feelings or thoughts that we speak of pertain to ourselves. The most provocative poem. It gives one pause to think. Nicely done, Teddy.
Thank you so much dearest Sorrenbarret, this time of year isn't easy for all, and I was leaning on Sylvia Plath with this one, not so jolly for the 1st of December but I needed to share today. Thank you kindest of poets. 🌹
Perhaps so, I often wonder that of myself. Just finished watching the new Norwegian Christmas film "The Snow Sister" which deals with death during this time of Year, one being born on the Eve, the other dying... So I'm in a bit of a strange mood for a Sunday.... so this poem is sitting rather "well" in my awareness at the moment. Blessings.
I've read a couple of sad poems over these days, and Christmas films will certainly make one feel either way, nothing but gratitude dear arqios thank you Sir. 🌹
Tremendous work, sweet Teddy.
Thank you dearest Thomas 🌹
Excellent write Teddy
Thank you dear Tony, 🌹
You're welcome
Absolutely stunning…introspective…and so very profound. Wonderful job my friend. Your words make me ponder those things as well. 🌹👏🙏❤️
Such enthusiasm, thank you dear Tristan. I guess I could be called a writer if my reader takes what is in my own reflection to then reflects. I'll take that as a great compliment. 🌹
We are a different person every day Teddy as we gain new knowledge from the day before.
Andy
I often think that it is our own feelings of grief that bleed through in some of our poetry. A creative outlet maybe. I started to write poetry when my Dad died. Your poem is certainly taking an introspective look dear Teddy and it is beautifully penned. Poetry is therapy. Hope your day is blessed with sunshine today. 🌹🌞🌞
Incredibly kind of you to share such personal info, yes I think I always had a muse but only after my brother died so young did I actually start to truly write. And then my mother Thank you so much dearest Cassie for such a gracious review. ❤️
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