Subterranean Lullaby


pitter patter of tiny feet

rat-a-tat of bullets ripping sheets

orange spears of flickering candles

casting opaque shadows on strips of flannel

digging deeper, ripping up the dirt

slowly covering holes in the shirt



the man in the long black coat

stands unsteadily at the edge of the moat

doing his best not to gloat

as the sand, cascades down all around the sacrificial goat

as its ripped bleeding throat

drains over the distended belly, as it bloats



swallowed up consumed by this world

in the belly of the beast all curled

buried in the grave, six feet under

as the veil is rent asunder

silver coins glinting on the eyes, all bright

weeping silver teardrops, in the watery moonlight

© 2018 Michael D Emmerich

 

The Man In The Long Black Coat

Paradise Unbound

lost in the mist of my own creation

contemplating the monster lurking in the belly of the creator

as we breath life into the monster

should we stop and let it remain dormant?

this fire burning in one’s belly

resentful of life being breathed into it



a fearful creator recoiling from his own creation

at the risk of overreaching, with its unintended consequences

alone, lost, created to be alone

and dying a lonely death

this mind of mine has its own mind

making heaven from hell and hell from heaven



finding the courage to carve my own path

casting aside icons and sacred cows

shattering this hierarchy of angel’s, demons and beasts

a conspiracy betwixt my somnambulance

and a familiar beast that man hath named

who for now, shall go by another name



my candle flickering almost to extinction, while buffeted by the wind

distressed at the thought of losing one’s dream

of a dream within a dream

my only thought was to one in paradise

and clouds on empty skies and not a care

whilst lost in the midst of my own mist

© 2018 Michael D Emmerich

Voices

Sitting alone on a remote site, in my small tent for the night, cold outside. No contact all alone, after a while it gets a tad claustrophobic, no matter how wide the horizon.

 

voices, I hear voices

who is that

that still small voice

sounds so familiar

oh, it’s just me



starting to sound distant

I’ll just keep calling

hoping against hope

that the door opens

to where?



at last it opens

but wait, there is no one there

that still small voice

chasing me away

saying begone



no solace

walls close in

horizon stretches beyond

longing for contact

 that human touch

at last

….

oh, it’s just me


© 2018 Michael D Emmerich

Black Mist

rollin’ and a tumblin’ it draws nigh

no warning bell tolls

this boiling tempestuous darkness

a mist of uncertainty

splashed with crimson



wrapping you in its threadbare

torn black shroud

black as the coal driven snow

no protection afforded

from the shards of blackness

…..

releasing, enveloping

or entombing?

© 2018 michael d emmerich

The Mark of Cain

cain’s mark, an unstable man

groaning and shaking on the earth

unable to release his grasp

or be the man he could be



stains of the past

scar for life

as the past passes one by

if not for you, then who?



healing eases the pain

but memories remain

leaving scars

and crosses to bear



healing, forgiveness

remembrance or a warning

that mark comes with a great burden

and a sacrificial cost?

© 2018 michael d emmerich

Too Much Blood for Words

(Bleeding Words Part 2)

Additional thoughts on this poem I wrote on 27 Feb, 2018 – Bleeding Words – my journal is littered with half finished poems and new ideas/concepts/memories; keep falling onto the pages. Just battling to put many of the ideas to bed, as finished poems, the final close out of many of the poems just escapes me at present ….

 

red stained pages

drenched, dripping

cannot see the words for blood

draining from my pen

onto the floor

pooling

coagulating

words escaping

frozen and timeless

in blood

© 2018 michael d emmerich

In Memoriam

My father would have been 84 today, sadly he passed away 5 years ago. I still miss him, and have been thinking about him a lot of late. The loss of a parent who was dearly loved leaves a pain that always lingers. I wrote this poem 2 years ago in 2016, and the absence is still there …

fathers are refuge from the storms of life

when that safe port passes on

when the lighthouse fades

all that is left are the memories



memories never fade

they are never forgotten or passed over

they remain



memories shine through the mists of time

even when the lights fade and no one lives there

they remain constant, eternal not ethereal

these remain, never forgotten



what was once real is now no longer

the reminders of your love do not fade

they remain



through the years we walked different paths

they diverged and merged over the years

at the end they had become one

constant reminders of our togetherness



unconditional love learnt

remains

© 2016 michael d emmerich

Mist of War

Anyone who has ever looked into the glazed eyes of a soldier dying on the battlefield will think hard before starting a war – Otto van Bismarck

 With all the craziness in the world at present, and ongoing conflicts and aggressive rhetoric from certain leaders …. maybe just maybe there will be less conflicts, if they themselves had to do the fighting….

the red mist descends overall

it’s to dark to see

as the eyes glaze over

into that 1000 yard stare

as the raging red rivers flow



darkness draws nigh

the veil is torn

the pathway opens on high

yes, I have seen the world

not sure which one awaits



I am coming, screams death

not a second to soon

for we have learnt nothing

from the tragic cycle of history

which is oft repeated

© 2018 michael d emmerich

Free Fall

into the distance I gaze

a flight of fancy awaits

with wings spread

soaring towards the sun



like Icarus and Lucifer

I thought, I thought of everything

warning lights ignored

navigator long since departed



on a wing and a prayer

flying to close to the sun

flew to high and to soon

it’s all melting away



I’m now freefallin’

like those before me

hell to heaven

a fall from grace



an angel awaits

enfolded by ruffled feathered wings

healing my wounds

with time

© 2018 michael d emmerich

A Shooting Star

 

Dedicated to my gorgeous, patient, long suffering, beautiful .. wife

stars-and-comets

saw your shooting star tonight

shattering the black of the night

flying across an amber palette

burning bright for all to see


that’s your mystique

slicing that veil of darkness

let your light shine through

my darlin’



you shine best

on the darkest of nights

burning brightly

chasing my dark away



that’s what you do best

dragging me to the light

my darlin’

© 2016 michael d emmerich