Vanquished Memories - Poem by Jordon DeGroote
The oscillating glow broke through,
yet the storm's darkness still floated black and blue
over the deteriorating fields that once grew
to feed my running pen.
The ailing fence bent and contorted
to the rhythmic strike of light that hoarded
the gaze of awestruck eyes through the poorly boarded
doorway of my eroding farm house.
And our old rocky roads that veined through the grain
were sputtering up their stones and spitting while the rain
became the raging foam that slithered from their manes
and morphed with their tears as they withered away.
But the worst was the animals—they screeched and howled with terror
for the whips of wind brought on shedding as their coats grew barer
and my favorite one, Mav—or was it Snowman? was but a sickly old mare
and collapsed while her dry bones cracked and snapped as a tear
of blood ripped down her wiry-haired cheek.
And thus marked the death of my memories.
Even the storm turned pale from its original black
as it diminished into clippings, a thinning stack
and all that remained was a white blank palette—cracked
for even the absence of thought is now lost.
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