She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not

With the start of a new year, I am happy to announce that I’ve got several projects in the works. While a few may take years, others may be out in 2021! It all depends on how busy I remain at my back-up job of bookselling. The first book that might make it to the shelves this year will be another collection of poetry called She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not. This is a poem that will be in the collection and to be honest, one of my favorites so far. Enjoy!

Mother Nature’s Divorce

She’s hopeless, you know.
How many times has She
tried to kick him out now?
He keeps saying he’ll change,
the lying drunk,
the destructive fuck.

“I’ll do better,
You’ll see.
I’ll clean up my act,
I’ll plant a tree.”

His flowery language
sure to wilt
by the last breath
of his drastic lilt.

She got mad, sure.
She threw it all at him,
the vase, the heat,
the viral masterpiece.
He dodged left, then right,
then finally brought to his knees,
his face, a mask, of death,
uttered words to please.

“I love You, it’s true,
I couldn’t live without You.”

I keep hoping She’ll change
because I know without a doubt,
She could be surprised
at what She can live without.

©Autumn Siders 2020

Trampled

The herd tiptoes
like giants on speed,
breaking mother nature’s
carefully planned land.
What lay in the path
is soon to be no more
as the rampage begins
and ends in gore.

My heart once was whole
until it heard your voice
and I knew with no doubt
you would leave me crushed.
What more could be done,
my choice simply made;
and through this carnage,
this shell will forever wade.

© Autumn Siders 2018

She

“Let it be so,”

her voice boomed
this command.

And with one fell swoop,
she destroyed all the land.

“For too long
they have taken
and not returned
the fruit of the earth
and then leave it burned.

From this point on,
let it be known,
that She is not
something you own.”

The windows shattered
and the ground shook
as the rain pattered
hitting every nook.

The ground split
and the seas rose
and life ceased
as the book closed.

“And it is so,”

a mere whisper in the dark
just waiting,
waiting,
waiting

for a

spark.

© Autumn Siders 2017