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Of Concrete & Glass

by Caitlin McColl 2 months ago in sad poetry

part 2 - a dark poetry collection

Of Concrete & Glass
Photo by Gustav Gullstrand on Unsplash

This is the second part of a 2 part poetry collection. You can find part 1 in my profile which is all about beauty and nature. This collection is the flipside of the coin and is all about the darker, scarier aspects of humanity, life and the world we live in.

TWILIGHT

The Darkest Hour

A young boy implores his mother

'What will happen when time stops?'

'Time will never stop,' the mother consoles

And within time the young boy turns into a man

The young man asks his teacher

'What will happen when time stops?'

The teacher replies, 'Time itself is not the issue,

It is what you do with your time that matters'.

As time passes yet again, the young man

becomes old. The old man sits at his writing desk,

Writing what has occurred during his time.

He stops, and looks at the clock.

He recalls his mother saying time will never stop.

He remembers his teacher telling him what you do with time is important

As he lays down his head and closes his eyes

he says to the empty room,

'I meant, what will happen when time ceases to be...

for me.'

Our World's Demise

The man watches dully

as flotsam washes up

along the once pristine shore

He can remember a time

when the water was clear

and not strewn

with old tossed away scrap

When the trees were full

and lively, in which birds sat

and sang melodies

And the hills behind

were dotted with flowers

Which man and creature

alike could enjoy

The man climbs on his steed,

disheartened

It was not so long ago

that the world was different

And why has it had to change now?

After centuries of no such change

It is not how he remembered it,

even a few seasons ago

He wonders, as he rides away,

into the darkening gloom

how many years will pass

before it once again becomes

the beautiful world he once knew.

The Pool

Walking to the waters edge

I see a reflection that is me, but yet not

Within the slight ripples on the surface

The face I see staring back at me

Looks frightened

The figure in the water moves

Startling me as I stand still on the bank

The young woman is clothes in white robes

Behind her is a place that is not where I am

I watch as the girl places something

quickly under some stones

And with a furtive glace around, is gone

Again I am looking at my pale self

Mirrored back at me in calm glassy waters

As I turn away from the pool

something catches my eye

A small mound of stone

Curiosity overpowers and

I lift up a hot dusty rock

Underneath lies an ancient scroll,

torn and dirty

As my eyes search the page

of fantastic and sorrowful things

I gasp, unsettled

Numb, the paper falls from my hands

Showing the clear sky above

that the author of the parchment was me

But yet not

Jack

Thick fog cloaks

narrow cobbled streets

under a tainted starlit sky

clogged with tattered forms

Harried whispers in the night

hiding in the shadows,

the unknown monsters lurking

in the dank and crowded streets

just around the corner

vampires in our world

crimson liquid seeping

into cracks in the cold ground

Statuesque

Cold, hard eyes

Unblinking, unchanging over centuries

Dark marble, quarried stone

Strong and unyielding

To the passage of time

Its grotesque yet strangely beautiful face

The unmoving eyes

Like that of its companions

Stare blindly down towards

Ordinary people doing ordinary things

Its thick wings branch precariously out

Stubby stone claws grip its perch for eternity

Its once unblemished body now speckled

By the gulls, pigeons and crows

That make it their resting place

Such is the life of a gargoyle

The Tides

Surging forth

Like waves against

a battered shore

Swarms of people

storm foreign lands

For what they believe

Hordes of figures

flow down streets

With signs and voices

raised high

For what they believe

Like the pull of the moon

on the oceans

The tides of humanity

will never cease

Being pushed

and pulled

In the direction

Of belief

Lost

Scattered like leaves

Blown about in the wind

A fleeting tempest

Swirling cyclone

My mind wanders

Trying to piece

The memories together

Like cut and faded

Remnants of film

On the cutting room floor

Found

Walking down a leaf strewn path,

Something catches the eye

glinting, a small silver key

A jolt surges

Muddied faint images

flash through the mind

A time long past,

A young girl in tattered dress,

A rundown house

The small key feels heavy,

Like lead as it rests in the palm

It becomes warm, starts to glow

Pictures flutter behind the eyes

A child's cluttered room...

A small cupboard...

A locked chest...

The key begins to burn

Continuing down the path

The glow intensifies

Picking the way down the path

And into the trees

Modern Warrior

Forging my way

Through the early morning gridlock

Jostling and struggling

Through the throngs

Defending my treasure

From modern pirates

Surviving the scalding morning coffee

Imbibed with the energy

To face The General in charge

The race to the deadline

Avoiding the gaze

Of the ranting raving wanderers

As the day comes to a close

Standing my ground

Against society

Nightstalker I

Skirting the light

Blending with shadow

Only sorrow in its thoughts

Draining life and joy

From all who encounter it

Eternal struggle

To move into light

Swamped by sadness

That which is

Depression

Nightstalker II

Skulking in deep recesses

Clouded by fear

With only malice on its mine

Grasping at villainous thoughts

Driven by greed

No light pierces its soul

No love wraps itself around it

In a cloak coloured dark green

From an eternity of jealousy

The creature called

Hate

Reflections

A water droplet is silent witness...

Of the life and circumstances reflected within it...

From the mundane...

...small creatures rustling in the brush

To unspeakable acts...

...discovered in desolate wilderness

...If only a droplet could speak

Water Whispers

Millions of water droplets

Flow silently as one

over the planet

Millions of droplets

Suspended effortlessly

Above ocean depths

The silence becomes

Tympanic symphony

In an instant

Scales

Translucent

Shimmering body of armour

Weighing hearts and deeds

and future possibilities

Measuring darkness and light

infinity and vastness

The scales of animal

The scales of justice

The scales of the universe

Tree of Life

Bridging three worlds,

the strong and ancient tree

Its roots stretch far

Into the dark underworld

Its trunk thrusts through

Our serene and earthly plane

Its branches strain

Upwards into the heavens

The Timeless

Forever stilled

Unmoving

Unblinking

Eroding and broken

Lying in the dust

Almost forever forgotten

Personified ash

And dust of centuries

Vague

A human shell

Once full of soul

And personality

Droves of the living walk

Solemnly past empty shells

On ancient sidewalks

Forever preserved

For the future to

Glimpse the past

Starbucks Society

Fast Food

Impatience

Cell phones, distractions

Early morning, afternoon, evening

McDonalds© and Coke© sponsored everything

Snobbery

New is old

And old is new

Absurd clothing

Trendy pubs and even trendier

Coffee bars, Exotic cuisine

Bookworm cafe revival

Along with airheads

Fast cars

Spurn transit

High price tags = status

Everyone expects something for free

Even if it is only whipped cream

For their Grande mocha coconut Frappuccino©

Under Starry Skies

Mountains glow like dying embers

Lit by the quickly fading sun

The blue stream turns to liquid silver

Under muted light

As the colours drain from the land

Small bright lights dance fleeting

Through the trees and flowers

Ethereal

Hidden from the human eye

Only seen in peripheral vision

Under a starlit sky

Is when the fairies come out to play

~~~~~~

I hope you've enjoyed these poems. If so please consider sharing, ❤️ing or if you feel so inspired, a tip (but no obligation!). Your support means a lot to me, thank you! Check out my other writings in my profile below.

sad poetry

Caitlin McColl

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