Poem seven – http://napowrimo.com
A horrible, tight, looming feeling.
The knowledge of my own mortality,
lurking in shadows behind me like a predator waiting to strike.
A heavy pressing on my heart, clinging on like talons sunk deep into ripe flesh.
My ribcage tightens, constricting my very soul.
My eyes bulge and strain in the darkness to glimpse a horizon,
just to spy a beam of sunlight cutting through.
The pungent smell of my own death and decay
repulses my own nostrils and makes me wretch.
By Becky Bite
A quick, furtive glare at the hourglass
is a must I decide as I plait my hair
and shovel on the face I keep for lunching out.
My subtly brown lips smirk as I catch myself
in the mirror. The picture of elegance…I wish.
But as I prepare to leave I consult
my hourglass and stop dead in my tracks.
Where has all the sand gone? I have just half
left but where’s the rest?
Surely I cannot have lived for so long?
Surely I would have noticed life slip by somehow?
I scan the photographic memories on the walls,
searching for an answer,
searching for a hint of time passing, something,
anything, which might make sense.
But the attempt is futile, its nowhere to be found.
No answer, no hint, just so many questions.
And I wonder why the present, which is here, now, this minute,
is all too suddenly yesterday, before, gone.
As I ponder this I notice the black writing of my past
crouching in the corner, waiting to pounce,
perhaps I should leave now say my gold shaded eyes.
I pass by the hourglass and pay it no heed.
For this is today and I live for now.
By: Becky Bite