Killing the killers
By seashore
- 2714 reads
Tonight I will sleep with a gun
Under my bed
Only I know it is there.
The ghosts haunting my dreams
Are unaware they are my targets.
Tonight the night when I line
Them up ready for the kill,
Searching their faces for signs
Of remorse
Before I press the trigger
watching their bloodied bodies crumble,
Their souls descending into purgatory.
In the morning, when light filters through
The blinds, casting shadows on your photograph, the one I look at every morning
Do I imagine the quizzical look on your face
As I check beneath my bed for the gun?
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Comments
The story feels rather violent
The story feels rather violent a restraining order should do, but I know how it feels believe me. Anyway the gun under your bed might help you deal with aggression I don't know. Just don't go to a nursery school and shoot some kids. And I don't know if a gun would help against ghosts rather keep a Bible under your bed. Or chocolates.
What is happening in your life? You've been very quiet for very long. Glad you're writing and posting again! Your work is always very refreshing.
Keep well! Tom
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The quizzical look...
The ghosts won't go away, but thankfully neither will the face in the photograph. It never could.
I can see that quizzical look on her face. I've seen it many times.
And I can see the need for the dreamtime gun.
A deeply moving expression of love and anger. I hope it helps. I'm really glad that you wrote this.
Tx
Turlough
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Powerful stuff, but
Powerful stuff, but necessarily so. I hope it helps with the anger - might even try it myself. Very very glad to see something from you Seashore - thank you for sharing it xx
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Catharsis is a common reason
Catharsis is a common reason for writing. It's what brought me back to creative writing a few years ago. Maybe the gun is a metaphor, maybe it's real. Some pain never goes away and it becomes a question of finding an outlet for it along with anger. Memories are all we are left with in the end. We embrace them the best we can. A moving poem and I hope it helped writing it.
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Hi Coral...hope you don't
Hi Coral...hope you don't mind me calling you Coral, as it was what I used to name you. Your daughter was so beautiful and talanted, How much frustration you have felt all these years, being able to write down your anger in a poem I hope has helped in some way.
This was a heartfelt poem that shows just how much you care.
She was always such a wonderful writier and gave me many kind comments on my work, which were greatly appreciated...as did you too.
Take care of yourself and cherish that photo.
Jenny.
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I came back to this today,
I came back to this today, having read it before; and the comments and your replies have helped me better understand it; and its certainly a powerful poem, which is cathartic.
Dougie Moody
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Pick of the Day
This is our Facebook and Twitter/X Pick of the Day! Please share/re-post if you like it.
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Golden Cherries
Coral mate, I'm absolutely delighted for you!
Those golden cherries are very much deserved and a sure sign that the old writing magic's still there.
Congratulations my dear friend.
Tx
Turlough
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Congratulations from me too -
Congratulations from me too - very well deserved, and of course now you need too write more!
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Very powerful as others have
Very powerful as others have said. The idea of violence perhaps a more uplifting and empowering respite from the grief, especially since your daughter's death was avoidable. I can imagine the twists and turns of anger being straightened, temporarily by the focus of a gun beneath the sanctuary of your bed, real or metaphorical. I'm very glad I read this and that you didn't delete it.
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sadness and anger and grief
sadness and anger and grief are bullets enough for any gun.
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Your last two lines are
Your last two lines are brilliant, for me, showing the character of your daughter, her humour, the power of her.
I am so sorry for what happened. I have bad thoughts about social workers who put my son in care when he was little, even though it was for less than a year and long ago. When he has nightmares about that time I feel guilty about the bad I wish upon them. I cannot imagine where you find your strength. Thankyou for your very powerful poem
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I can feel your pain.
The blinds, casting shadows on your photograph, the one I look at every morning. Bring tears to my eyes.
William E Alexander
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Shock, anger, grief...
are usually ranked in appearance, followed by acceptance.
No.
Each stage is as individual to the person as the person gone.
A spirit of love guides through the day, vengeance and recrimination often left to our dreams where they ferment, hard to clarify to a fine wine, an offering to others.
big hug
L x
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