Just finished the poem you see below.
Hard one to write. Harder one to share.
Good night.

Please Hear Me

Kick me as I lay on the ground
You cannot have my spirit

I will not die

There was a nun
And another who shared her perfume
Small acts of kindness to hold onto

I don’t want to die

Placed in that tiny cage
With dragons
And rats that crawled up my legs

Don’t let me die

No one would listen
No money to catch their attention
No money

Please hear me

The poem below...

This one is for the physicists,

The game theorists,

And you.

To Bob, from Alice: Can you C MI?

Words spoken become equal measures of spin

Faint remnants of your voice, a partial trace held within

Then at once you are with her, in her, you are there

Two entangled particles, a singlet stated pair

Yes, the outcome of her figuring is anything but random

No-communication absolving that which hasn't yet happened

Time is but a fancied façade and now her strength is waning

Farewell my love, she mocks his tone… yet has no trouble waiting

© Copyright 2011 Jennifer Shultz, all rights reserved

No part of this literary work may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means without the written consent of the author.

Life's grandest delusion is that we have to be

reminded of our own mortality.

By Way of Pain 

A pattern of deceit and trickery with those Delphian eyes... oh!

How they betray such darkness held captive, confined deep within her mind

Cold whispers surround the delicate cloak of sleep forever absent from this nightmare

Once a fancied delusion, now a listless pool of bane and decay

Fragmented memories define a life half-lived

Cursed nights, bludgeoned dreams

She weeps for escape 

Forgive her

  

© Copyright 2011 Jennifer Shultz, all rights reserved

No part of this literary work may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means without the written consent of the author.

Torment
Quiet as she sits, one amongst the trees
Roots intertwined in the soil of your secrets.
Hair down to her waist like branches rich with leaves
Nerve endings from root to tips
Careful not to pull too hard
Nor chip away at her protective bark
Heart beating in her hollow chest, she waits to breathe
Sit with her and listen, let her fall if she must.
The fortunate few who dare
Will become wildly ensnared...
Fate only has meaning when crushed

© Copyright 2011 Jennifer Shultz, all rights reserved

No part of this literary work may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means without the written consent of the author.