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Manifesting miracles

I go quietly
as desperate
shards of agony
twitch into my
anguished heart

Death reigns.
as life ebbs
on a fickle flow,
my souls silenced
witness unleashes,
I howl tortured
bruised, torn
battered vocals,
cracked and dried
I forgot swallowing.

of retouched film,
rewritten scripts,
and a battered kit.
We walked new roads,
to rewrite history,
to love
to cherish
to suffer,
I spared no effort.
I woke
into a reality
of tortured
and now

There, look,
new life
that I'll
never know
that new smell,
that first cry
that first smile,
her fingers
will never
hold mine
on a first step,
I'll never
deliver her,
I'll never
save her,
and I'll never
know her.

From afar..
I will love her,
I will love her,
I will love her.

as shards
work their way
unto my end,
to manifest
a miracle.

On my knees,
with my soul
laid bare.


Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
I'm rusty. Someone once told me to only ever write what you know. This is my reality and hence its painful and agonizing. But I want to reach those fabric brushed heavens i created a little bit ago. Have at it rip it apart if you need to, want to or must. Love love love J x
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


Well, this is sort of haunting. The imagery is really vivid and fantastic. I think the rhythm flows really well as well, especially with your use of enjambment.
I don't think your rusty. Maybe it's just with me, but I don't find the ability to write poetry disappears after time away from it. I think we just convince ourselves we can't do it properly anymore. If anything, I think this poem's existence proves that you AREN'T rusty.

(One thing I noticed is the word "miacle" at the end. I think this is a spelling error.)

I'm interested, though, in the backstory to this. If you're comfortable, I'd be interested to know.

This poem is about my grown up son who is nearly 30. We don't have a relationship anymore. And may never do again. I also have a granddaughter who was born on the 01.01.2020 at 12.01am I have never met her and unless I manifest a miracle I never will. I am not well and the odds are stacked against me. Worst thing I see no great reason why. It's the WHY thats crushing me. Hes given a flippant answer that only raises more questions than not. I have ideas and I guess thats another reason that i feel the way I do. I've always felt too much.

I have written letters for when she turns 18 and 21 and so on and of course a poem from the day she was born and others since. It has been indescribably heartbreaking. I cry every night and I'm trying to look ahead and make memories with the people who still have a relationship with me. Easier said than done. I think if I hadn't been given hope where there was none it maybe wouldn't be so hard. I haven't met his partner either and from other people I've heard she's a lovely girl. But alas it is what it is... This is what it is. A brokenhearted mother.

Your words really up. I was such a prolific writer and I just stopoed. The muse taunted teased and tortured me at times. It became unbearable a few months ago. I started writing and never thought they were any good. A good friend recently said that I was nuts and to do something with it all.

So here I am doing something with it all. Seems like fate. Thank you for your very kind words they were so appreciated from the bottom of my heart.

Hugs J xx

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

author comment

I know you enjoy writing in this linear form. But it kinda intimidates me with its appearance of being longer than it really is. Just for fun try combining a lot of these lines where appropriate and see if you still like it

I know what you mean. But like steven I am drawn to write freeform like this. I put them together and for me they lose the meaning. I had a huge convo with him once about just this. His words were not fit for here lol but he said I should write these how it came out in my mind. If you read it slowly and thats how this should be read. Torturously slowly. Because thats how it feels. Like some drawn out mel a drama. Hugs its good to be back sorry for my absense the last couple of days one i slept. 12 days with little or no sleep and one trying to sort out the last 20yrs of stuff. Thank you so much for the visit.

I dont wanna seem nonconformist but yeah ive prided myself on my difference lol :p

Love and hugs xxx Sis

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

author comment

suggestions I give anybody are just that. So if you don't want to use this one there might come a time when you use one on another write. Now Get To Bed .....and I don't mean in That manner

I wish I could be normal. Maybe when i finish my degree I'll see it in a different light. I have been putting it off too long. I applied to the same university as a close friend. I've done the paperwork and sent my vital information. So fingers crossed I get to do this. I blew a chance over 30yrs ago. High time i got a wiggle on. I love any suggestions you come up with Bro. Please dont hesitate to offer them i need to be better and write great poetry again. Its why i came back. Plus I like the place but mostly my friends and family.

Love always xxx Sis :)

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

author comment

Hi again, so sorry about your life situation. It happens more often than you might think. All of us have terrible events to grieve about forever.
Your poem is haunting, the title is fine and the content crystal clear. I agree with Stan about it being too spaced out. It would be far smoother if you joined up lots of the lines and maybe tweaked some of those "that's", etc.
Enjoyed, if that is the correct word. Your muse has not left you. It's OK to write about one's feelings. They're what we know most about.
Sending healing vibes, Gracy

"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

Its lovely to meet you ! I'm an old hand here. Seems like forever. And yes it been a topic of discussion once or twice lol the way I write. Once my health issues have settled im going to finish my degree, hopefully I'll be able offer a little more to the site. I'm going to trim some lines back and see how that goes. See how it reads. Thanks so much for your visit its very much appreciated. I'll be back later in the morning. Again lovely to meet you

Kindest regards Jayne xxx

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

author comment
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