I am a white African. Contradiction in terms? I think not. Sometimes my blog will be serious; sometimes sad; sometimes irreverent; sometimes witty; always my truth simply written.
awakening
consciousness filters
through woozy senses—
succumbs to a shroud of
terror that engulfs, consumes,
any semblance of sanity;
as rough wood remains
unmarked by shredding nails
panic scrapes across torrid
vocal chords, unable to even
ripple sound as suffocating
death lurks in rhythmic doef —
doef — doef — of soil slowly
obliterating makeshift coffin
Hi Andy / River... right on both accounts... murderous spouse not bothering to check poor victim is dead before burying... got the idea from a programme I saw about a guy who bludgeoned his ex, stuck her in a drum, covered her with snow and put her in a storage locker in another county. By the time the cops got to her she had apparently about 10 minutes before she would have died. Lost her feet due to frostbite. Fortunately she had her cell phone on her and managed to alert the police she was in trouble before he found it and took it away. One good cop figured the whole thing out when they arrested him and he handed his things over and there was a business card for a storage depot in another county. He put 2 and 2 together and got 4... rest is history. How inhumane we can be... mmmm
This was maybe not the thing to read right before bed! lol Seriously, what a chilling poem...you did a wonderful job! Thank you so much for stopping by...I'm glad you connected with the poem about my son. They lose that innocence too quickly, don't they?
Hi Kristi. Thanks for stopping by. Hope I never gave you nightmares. Yes, they do lose that innocence and if, like me, you live apart from them you just lose out on so much. But in the end I had to give him the chance to go live with his biological father to get that influence in his life. Divorce sucks in many ways.
First, thanks, Catherine, for commenting on my waiting for water. This one has incredible impact and texture of being there with the wood and the fear.
Am I correct in assuming this was someone buried alive? If so...what a terrible fate.Gives me shivers!
ReplyDeleteThanks for crossing the globe to my spot:)
I'm guessing a bad marriage.
ReplyDeleteI have something for you at http://riversruminations.blogspot.com/2011/04/versatile-award-7-facts.html
Hi Andy / River... right on both accounts... murderous spouse not bothering to check poor victim is dead before burying... got the idea from a programme I saw about a guy who bludgeoned his ex, stuck her in a drum, covered her with snow and put her in a storage locker in another county. By the time the cops got to her she had apparently about 10 minutes before she would have died. Lost her feet due to frostbite. Fortunately she had her cell phone on her and managed to alert the police she was in trouble before he found it and took it away. One good cop figured the whole thing out when they arrested him and he handed his things over and there was a business card for a storage depot in another county. He put 2 and 2 together and got 4... rest is history. How inhumane we can be... mmmm
ReplyDeleteThis was maybe not the thing to read right before bed! lol Seriously, what a chilling poem...you did a wonderful job!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for stopping by...I'm glad you connected with the poem about my son. They lose that innocence too quickly, don't they?
Hi Kristi. Thanks for stopping by. Hope I never gave you nightmares. Yes, they do lose that innocence and if, like me, you live apart from them you just lose out on so much. But in the end I had to give him the chance to go live with his biological father to get that influence in his life. Divorce sucks in many ways.
ReplyDeletedoef doef doef.. yes, fine use of onomatopoeia... great read. Good to see you here, Catherine xx
ReplyDeleteFirst, thanks, Catherine, for commenting on my waiting for water. This one has incredible impact and texture of being there with the wood and the fear.
ReplyDeleteThank you Luke and Joanne. Glad you enjoyed the read and that you could feel the poem...
ReplyDelete