The Hollow

I’m caught once again betwixt two beacons’ glow
No, rather two sirens beseeching my ear
They beckon me unto them; juts ‘neath the flow
Do threaten to tear me asunder with fear

Their voices do battle, each other o’er me
Each claims theirs the sweeter, theirs honey that’s pure
Their rage caused the boiling, the thrashing, the sea
So wrathful my safe return I can’t be sure

Publishing a poetry book and chose this poem to be in it! Wish me luck, friends! :")

Tiny child, by your parents torn apart,
I wish I could hold you in my arms; not my heart.
Unloved, unprotected, not held by loving hands;
Your demise is cheered on and upheld in this land.

Unloved, unwanted, torn and abused:
Cast aside for selfish pleasure, broken; confused.
They pursued their own lust and chased after their pleasure,
Not facing their sins but removing their treasure.

TITUS awoke from his deep slumber. He took in a deep breath of the salted air. He could hear the waves, as they fell upon the rocks. Even though he lived more than hour from the sea by walking, the sea seemed to surround the whole house.

As soon as his eyes were used to the brightness of the early morning sun, shining through his window, he saw his little five-year-old sister’s face. Zoe had her father’s light hair and her mother’s dark eyes. She seemed to be smiling for eternality until Titus stated:

“Yes, Zoe?”

2
Aunt Jess raised me, and when I was little I thought she just had a bad memory. She often struggled to monitor me, from asking me to turn on the oven twelve times straight to forgetting, in the car, that she was driving me to the library for a school project.

**Happy New Year, everybody! Here is part two. I would love to hear your thoughts on this second installment. Hope you enjoy! :) **

I can’t fit it all in one poem,
How much I love you,
There are just too many words to say,
How about if I speak one each day?
That way it will fill up the year
To tell you, you are so dear.

Not all understand what a mother is,
What they’re meant for and what they give.
Some just don’t get how special they really are,
Or the good they do when they are near or far.

But I know my mother is meant to cry,
She is meant to sob when waving goodbye.
I know my mother is meant to smile,
When remembering a funny time as a child.

I know my mother is meant to shed tears,
When I shed mine on all my fears.
I know my mother is meant to comfort me,
Saying “All will be okay, my Lady T”.