Rebecca Mummery
Rebecca Mummery Poems
He held a candlestick,
He lit it with splintered pine,
Once an invisible figure,
Now a figure with an outline.
...
They sacrifice their blood for the reliability of a myth,
The crimson fluid of their childrens',
And it will suffice for the respective gift,
It's tradition propelled by the purpose.
...
Jaggered footsteps crushed dead grass,
Seen this place before.
Smelt it, heared it, breathed it and sensed it,
Now encountered once more.
...
I thought I do think more oft than not,
But yet I do drink,
It is then I possess a frightening one,
With the inability to think.
...
Ah, but these photographs,
So unbelievable, demonstrates purity.
Yes, but I edited them, changed them, enhanced them...
They were never quite so pretty before.
...
We are all human, and all shall suffer.
When we think, it's rather we try not to,
And when we do think, it's then that life presents itself.
Not that we can see the ugliness, it's rather that ugliness is felt.
...
Far fetched is the creation of humanity,
The magic once real, now gone.
How our species occupy the ball,
and how the ball caters for the strong.
...
In frustration,
This heat was thawing his chilled speech.
For far too long,
He imagined he'd eventually thaw the words,
...
I look up to the long-haired preachers of their kind,
In my vain attempt to comprehend their dialogue - deep as your darkest secret, the person you really are, the one that you hide.
I wrap their creativity around me like the discolouration of my bones,
For I long to activate myself, the one that crystalised through a darkened period of darkest times.
...
Like moths, their pot of gold is indeed a bright one,
Full of triumph, fulfillment and light.
The only target in their existence,
The blinding source keeps their addictions well-fed.
...
People wrapped in their blanket of perfection,
The world at their feet, whilst the world is on another's shoulders,
Make no comparison, fate is wicked.
...
The atmosphere was bubbling acid,
The faces glowed in warm light,
The faces knew no surveillance,
The faces lacked cold and white.
...
The Best Poem Of Rebecca Mummery
The Figure
He held a candlestick,
He lit it with splintered pine,
Once an invisible figure,
Now a figure with an outline.
He paced the staircase,
He called out in question,
His garment relflected the blank conclusion,
And the ill-informed mind suited the material he was dressed in.
He drew the velvet curtains,
And they draped from rail to floorboard,
Whilst his illusions were well-fed,
His temperature had soared.
Mr.Apprehensive occupied the hallway,
And each doorway lured him in.
The bathroom was at best, un-settling,
It was then he was exposed to past's sin.
Past's sin made him draw a short breathe,
Past's memory made him epitomise,
Future's outcome hung in the balance,
And tomorrow's regret, in thought, resides.
The thoughts locked in a safe,
Red and black tin,
Red was a symbol of fury,
Black was a symbol of sin.
The price for the will to find logic was greater,
Greater than any diamond ring,
The intent behind the cause was less,
Now a puppet without the string.
He dropped a candlestick,
He showered it in running water,
Once a figure with an outline,
Now an invisible figure,
The bricks without mortar.
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5/4/2024 1:48:36 PM # 1.0.0.1119
a beautiful person full of truest desires and purest inspiration she is a wonderful fascinating muse to me; p ~XxxX~