Melancholic Mediocrity
A "The Last Flame" Challenge Entry
Melancholic flame of autumn’s ache burns,
Surging fires spread upon the hillside’s crest -
I watch and don a mask of foreshadowing,
One of unearthed, overwhelming sadness.
Oh, fragile mask, I weep at your weakness
For my fortitude is but withered, dying leaves
Adrift in the burning garden of my soul;
A deep-seated flame of life’s emotional decline.
*
I manage to greet the throngs and still smile
In a thinly-veiled disguise which none can see.
My mask, its edges burnt, covers my scars
And delays the curious inquisitions
Whilst in me the hunt for elusive peace remains.
With fierceness, melancholic flames spread,
Wreaking havoc and singeing my heart in a
A thirst driven drought in need of sustenance.
*
Ache of autumn gives way to bursting flames,
Winter descends rapidly in haunting fires,
Murmuring and manipulating edges of my life.
A frozen river spreads into the final edges
All resistance is relinquished with a reckoning
Of cold, encroaching petulance and darkness.
A sound breaks the silence of my existence –
Iced waters fracture, melancholy succumbs.
*
Alas, my breath releases, uncaged without effort,
A sigh so grand, though none hear its calm allure;
The mask breaks loose, unfettered and falls free,
Beneath the defiled marble of my former facade
Is but a hollow, burnt shell of all I ever was.
Derived from flames of melancholic mediocrity
I now wear a new mask displaying my last face
Forged from the fires of fate's dilatory release.
*
Dedicated to Joan and all others who may have struggled with or succumbed to suicide’s release.
About the Creator
Cindy Calder
From Charleston SC - "I am still learning." Michelangelo
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Comments (5)
This poem hits hard. The opening line delivers. It's so rich. I feel like the alliteration gives it the effect of echoing. Brilliant. You skillfully bring us down this poem, line by line and deliver a hammer blow - "...a hollow burnt shell, of all I ever was." That's a shattering line. It just stopped me. Excellent, excellent poem.
This was not mediocre at all. Outstanding, Cindy!
"Oh, fragile mask, I weep at your weakness For my fortitude is but withered, dying leaves" I know this feeling all too well, Cindy. Fortunately, with time and attention, I have burned my mask.❤
This is mournful and bracing in equal measure, Cindy. The desire for peace from the haunting and accusative voices within is palpable. Hopeless is its own disease and you captured that brilliantly. Good luck on the challenge!
This is such wonderfully wistful, mournful work. I highly relate to the feeling of not having much substance/identity beneath a polished facade, and the deep sense of melancholy that comes with that realization. The 'hunt for elusive peace remains' in me too...this could be submitted for 'the hunt' challenge too! Bravo on this brilliant writing, Cindy!