Rewind (September 2021)

You sit tight and still
 And drown your face in wine.
 From time to time you shake and mutter:
 It was all too great.
 It was all mine.
  
 Like an ancient king’s your reign was golden
 And so was your pride.
 Your price was never even spoken
 And the stakes were swindling high.
  
 You shake your dusty coat
 Your wounds still moist and shiny
 You raise your head
 Madness turning eye to eye
 You dance all night
 You die
 You wake
 Rewind
 You drown your face in wine. 

Rewind © Sylvia Schmidt December 2018

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In Mid-Air (August 2021)

 Marla held the door open
 She didn’t like to wait
 After three children and a best-forgotten husband
 One can’t afford the patience.
  
 Emmi huddled through the frame,
 Coat half on, half dragging
 With thirteen worries of her own
 And just one waiting far in that new home.
  
 Nonetheless, the two were one,
 Never chosen, never spoken,
 The height of sister shading sister,
 A word of truth hung in mid-air.
  
 Without a need to say
 A pact was sworn that very morning,
 One last attempt on freedom's way.
 Odd to think, but luck came calling,
 She got away,
 They never met again. 

In Mid-Air © Sylvia Schmidt 04/04/21

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Sorry Soul She Is (July 2021)

Cobbled paths and grey asphalt,
Green-lined lanes aimed to please.
As the steps slouch with shoulders deep as thought,
Ought to know the way, but don’t.

Decay of life eating,
Slow beating walk,
Sunglasses tinted,
Bitter talk of disappear,
Right now, right here.
I weave present - past into dark despair,
No use, to wear a happy face.
Delays of darkness,
Arches, arches
And my cat cries.

Limbs dangling from the joint,
No point in even trying,
Crying all the way,
A day like yesterday, like yesterday.

Away with you! Please sleep,
Give peace and sweet relief!
And deep I go into the hole,
Tomorrow is the only goal.
Tomorrow, so I hope, will pay the bail.
I wail like an old maid.
Too late for her to be saved.
Sorry soul she is.
Tryin’ so hard.
Oh dear!

Sorry Soul She Is © Sylvia Schmidt 25/05/20

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Pass On The Black (June 2021)

 Pass on the black,
 The lack of communication,
 A wealth of deprivation,
 Trickled down to haunt your days.
  
 Redefine the deck.
 Ignore the one that’s dealt.
 Just melt your past’s contamination
 Until the bones grin bare. 
  
 Perhaps, it’s time for a good clear-out,
 Handing back those dried-up branches
 That served their cause just fine back then.
  
 Perhaps, a thorough compostation of their baggage will clear sky.
 No, I won’t deny the crooked folds in which my mind exists.
 But do I have to key that worn-out message into the current cloth?
  
 Throw back the black they offered, silently within their own cruel
 night! 

Pass On The Black © Sylvia Schmidt 04/05/21