Four Death Poems: Forget, There is Nothing left to Gain, Mirror, and It by Teresita Blanco

Forget 

by Teresita Blanco

Digging up a grave

To bury my rage.

There is nothing to gain

From labor’s pain.

I lift up my pen

To drop it, yet again.

These words refuse to flow.

I must bend low,

I must learn to forget.

I must erase all my regrets. 

There is nothing Left to Gain

by Teresita Blanco

Hour wasted, minutes discarded.

On What was my time spent?

The knife has found the dent

In the back of my armor.

The old scar was laid open.

From it drops a velvet curtain.

There is nothing left to gain.

Al has been set and done.

The sun is setting on my tomorrow.

There is nothing left, but sorrow.

Mirror

by Teresita Blanco

They seek absolution

In their petty, contributions.

Yet, they cannot erase

That horrible face.

You may opaque the mirror.

You may taint it crimson.

Yet, you cannot escape this prison.

Nor, their cries of horror.

There is not forgives,

For its all business. 

It

by Teresita Blanco

For my bleeding heart,

How much do you want?

Put a price tag on my pain!

Parade it, discard it,

How much do you want for it?

Its blood can fill a fountain.

It can also move mountains.

“No one is looking at it,

No one wants it.

Not even the rats desire it.

Save it for the blowflies instead.”

Copyright Teresita Blanco

You do not have permission to use my poems without my express written consent.