Discussion Creative Writing Megathread

[Emerita]

Call me emerita, as for my life—

As if it's my name.

I wear it on my soul—

For the time I have endured,

And soon I will go.

It is not suicide

To take my honour away!

So I ask for this name

As a final title

Before I lay with daisies.

So when the sun has dipped

And the night be all—

That mourn should meet,

Where my body rest.

Centuries will pass—

And only the tomb shall I confide

My self—and what remains of memories.

The parts of me engraved

Will erode away the ineffable grief.

As for in the fallen field,

Most of us are forgettable.

It is not legacy I seek—

But a luxury for recognition,

For the labour of my breath.

Before intimacy of the grave

I lived— a survival of pain.

Till I took the day in hand

And instead picked a gentleman—

That his name was death.

[Emerita a Latin term meaning someone soon to retire with honour —used here to signify a name of honour for a life lived that will soon end]

This isn't well written but its my name here so thought I would share.

 

[AnimusLapsus]

A fellow user recommended that I post some of my work in this forum.

Below is a prose poem written last fall, whose substance, although autumnally inspired, remains applicable year round. Hope you enjoy :)

Deliverance


steady murmurs of fate and misfortune condemn open fields into motion. willows weep and reeds frail. a sycamore writhes to the insatiable palate of time. the heron sickens. vultures swarm. knells herald death's drum as silence subsumes the meadow. to the beat flurry emaciated leaves, ushering in destruction with violent dance. autumn - the silent fury, the grim deliverer, the forlorn thief.



in all its crooked, waxing glory, her luminous majesty rises, presiding over an early dawn.

reborn, she musters a whisper, faint like blood on the tongue.



"The great repose is nigh. September has arrived. "