Tears For An Angel

This world, our home, is not your place;

We made it ready but you never came,

And I will never see your face.

 

My life goes on at the same old pace,

But with a hidden, unspoken pain,

That this world, my home, is not your place.

 

Where you should be is empty space -

No photos for the waiting frame;

The world will never see your face.

 

Excitement, hope, a packed suitcase,

Wishes of luck again and again.

But this world, their home, was not your place.

 

You never felt her warm embrace,

But you knew her love as fierce as flame

And how she longed to see your face.

 

God took you home, safe in His grace;

He took your hand and spoke your name,

For this world, our home, is not your place.

But one day we will see your face.

 

© Carole Holland 03/11/2011

These are words that had to be written for a child I will never know, for a family that will never be the same, for people I barely know but cannot get out of my head or my heart.

May they find some peace soon and find the joy of life and love again.

God Bless x

Fame – A Villanelle

It’s the weekend again and therefore it’s time for the Weekend Creation Blog Hop! Done something creative that you want to share? Made a fancy birthday cake? Written a story? Knitted a hat? Link on up over at WordsInSync and see what everyone else has been up to too!

Despite doing several poetry modules at university I’m still not right good on all my different poem forms. The following is my attempt at a Villanelle which sounded so simple in theory but was a total pain in practice. A famous example of a Villanelle is Dylan Thomas’ brilliant Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night and Wikipedia explains what a Villanelle is far better than I would so nip over here if you want to know what on earth I’m on about…

Fame

I long to crawl where I can never be found
far from the burning blaze of limelight
and away from that deafening roaring sound.

My ship has come in and run aground,
and I’m left blinded by the sunset bright.
I long to crawl where I can never be found,

to escape the gaze of all around,
and find the peace of private night,
away from that deafening roaring sound.

Each word I speak just echoes round
like the cave-bound slap as bats take flight,
so I long to crawl where I can never be found.

I’m stuck on a tightrope, damned and Hell-bound,
airbrushed and tweaked ‘til I’m sweetness and light,
facing that deafening roaring sound.

Is there no escape from this dreaded fairground,
where I stand like a deer in a blinding headlight?
I long to crawl where I can never be found,
away from that deafening roaring sound.