I searched for peace inside a hollow room,
where laughing echoes twisted into cries,
and there I curled, my hands wrapped round my head,
until I found the strength to stand again.
I took a pen and wrote my name in blood
extracted from the very heart of me,
then slowly scribed my story on the wall
and as I wrote, the words turned into rhyme.
My messages on concrete changed to wine,
a wine which sweetened daily as I read
the warm replies you penned in dappled hues
that blotted out the dirt of times gone by.
As moon will fade and sun will take its place,
you led me out of darkness into day,
you gave me strength and helped to ease the pain,
and now I fight the demons as they rise.
This is an exercise in blank verse – I couldn’t resist this anarchic take on the prompt. However, having completed it, I realise I don’t enjoy writing blank verse, apart from the fun of playing with iambic pentameter.
©Jane Paterson Basil